


We Were, Together

by SecretlyMe



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst, Blood and Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendly Fire, Guilt, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, It's barely noticeable but I mention it anyways, Magic weapons, Massages, Pain, Personal Growth, Quest of Erebor, Sadness, Slow Build, Trust, all dwarves get screen time, all of them are younger because when I started this Peter J said they were younger, author is forever nervous, cheesy beginning I can't escape, it's a journey, magic is more easy to come by now, sad past, subtle gore, tip toes between movies and book
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2019-11-12 12:53:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 83,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18011273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretlyMe/pseuds/SecretlyMe
Summary: “No matter what you are or what you do, my sword and shield are for you, not against you,” Ayth said, and she fell to her knees before him like he was the executioner. She rested on her ankles and bowed her head, and her hands fell limply into her lap.He remembered the first time he learned of Ayth, moments before she appeared in person. How he had imagined a dressed up woman decked out for a stroll and not an adventure, someone who’d probably never even seen a weapon up close let alone held one. When he met her, he was sure that despite her appearance she wasn’t all Gandalf said she was. She was thin, smiled too willingly, and had dressy clothes for a warrior nomad. Something had to be wrong with her image and story, and he still sometimes wondered how some of that first night fit into her personality now.





	1. The Signing Of Our (Probable) Deaths

Bilbo didn’t know how his evening came to this; he was surrounded by thirteen dwarves and a meddlesome wizard, his pantry was raided and barren, and the dwarves didn’t seem to notice him when he called for attention. They just sat around his dining table talking of adventure and a dragon, Smaug. As the evening waned they sang a deep, haunting song of their home and glory, of the dragon and what it took, and it made him stay in the room and listen instead of making more of a fuss. Then they mentioned him, and how he was their Burglar. He gasped when the word adventure slipped from their mouths, put his foot down at the mention of Smaug the Terrible, but at him being a thief, he realized there was no use in trying to get their attention out of his house. Quiet or going down screaming, they weren't leaving. He slumped in his chair and gave up on trying to get them out.

About the same time, the wizard named Gandalf brought out a paper, and hummed as he looked it over. Liking what he saw, he passed it to the closest dwarf, an old one with a white beard. Balin was his name, an aged dwarf who has lived as far back as when Thror still ruled the Lonely Mountain.

“Put your signature where your name is.” The wizard told him as he handed him a quill.

The elder dwarf looked down the page and noted fifteen names were written, not fourteen, and the only other one signed was the last name on the list. Balin smiled, wrote his signature, and passed the contract around to the next dwarf. He needn’t read the signature, there was only one fifteenth member that could join them, and that was Gandalf. It warmed the old dwarf to know that Gandalf had officially decided to join them.

The signing of their -probable- deaths went much the same as Balin’s. Each dwarf signed their name and glanced to see the other names. They each saw the fifteenth name, under Bilbo Baggins, already signed at the bottom of the list in a perfect handwriting that no dwarf could copy, and they each thought the same as Balin, that it was Gandalf who had signed it, and not another person outside their close group.

That is until the last member, the leader of the company got the contract. The leader, Thorin Oakenshield, had dark, dark hair and a short beard, and he layered himself in armor and clothing. The man oozed leader, and was the oldest in the line of Durin, resting at one hundred and sixty-six. He signed his name at the top, scanned the list, and read each name carefully to make sure no dwarf was left out. He too saw fifteen names, and that only Bilbo hadn’t signed. The blond hobbit in question was in a small chair on the other side of the room, sulking his worth. He read the name of the fifteenth member, his mind thinking Gandalf the Grey, but his eyes read differently. He doubled his glance and reread the name, then tripled his look. The name remained the same, Ayth Shielden.

The other dwarves noticed his eyes do the relooks, his brow fused in confusion, his eyes squinted as if he had read something wrong. After a fifth look, the leader looked up at the wizard who handed this out. The wizard muttered something akin to ‘Finally’, before smiling pleasantly.

“Gandalf. Who is the last person on the list, if not you?” Thorin asked finally. The other dwarves surrounded him at his words, each toppling over each other to get a look at the name they thought was Gandalf. Even the hobbit noticed the new commotion and heard the question. There was another, someone that not even the others knew about? Was that good or bad? He straightened up, new interest taking up his flustered mind.

A young dwarf, the youngest in the group, read the name aloud.

“Ai-th Shield-en?” Kili asked. The dwarves looked up at the wizard and waited for an answer.

“It’s Ae-th, Master Dwarf. Her name is Ayth Shielden.” Gandalf answered. Thorin raised an eyebrow and looked at the name again. The dwarves were right in no dwarf could writing that hand, because it's a she. She must be a female dwarf then. Where did Gandalf even find a female dwarf?

“Her?” Thorin asked.

"Yes, her,” Gandalf said with a voice that said not to fight him on it. Thorin looked over at the curious hobbit as he questioned Gandalf’s sanity. First, a Hobbit burglar that looks like a grocer, next, a female dwarf mysteriously appeared. Why would they need a female anyway? Where did Gandalf even find a female dwarf?

“I was unaware we’d be having a female in the company,” He answered, miffed at the notion. “Will she need oils?”

Gandalf pulled a face.

“No she will not need oils, she is not some dainty maid. She’s a skilled warrior who has fought many foes, even though she doesn’t look like she could. On first glance, you may think her as easy to break as a toothpick; but she has been in similar wars as you Thorin, and she always made it out alive and with fewer wounds than you did.” Gandalf vouched, offended for the woman who wasn’t there. Thorin saw the wizard’s passion for the girl, and tilted his head in understanding.

“My apologies, Gandalf.” He said.

“Accepted. Now, that slow half-” Just as Gandalf started, a knock sounded, a signal that someone was at the door. Thirteen eyes went to Bilbo, but Gandalf was out of the room faster than his age looked.

The dwarves heard the clomp of the wizard and the creak of the door. There was a trade of quiet words, and the wizard’s laugh echoed to them. They heard him talking to “Ayth” as he showed her the way, but none could understand the words. They did understand what the female said (“Ok, Gandalf, I get it.”), seconds before they entered, and the company attempted to look presentable.

Gandalf walked in confidently while the person, Ayth Shielden, trailed silently behind him, almost as silent as an elf. For a second, Thorin wondered if Gandalf was dumb enough to bring an elf. The girl that appeared behind him though was no elf. Gandalf was right, she looked as breakable as a toothpick.

She was taller than most of the dwarves of Thorin's company and thinner than Ori, but she made up her small stature with how her presence filled the room. Her skin -that they could see- was unmarked of any wounds from battles. Her red-blonde hair was more on the gold blonde side than the red side, and it looked like it had recently been braided, but was free to flow now. She looked abnormally human in the face, from her hairless jaw to her small nose to her sharp brow. Her eyes were a light kind of grey, the same color as mountain stone. As she walked farther into the room, the light of the kitchen fires shined off the metal pieces in her ears. Four studs lined her right lobe, and a helix bar was in her left ear. To the dwarves, those piercings spoke memories of battles, and a couple shifted awkwardly.

She had a long-sleeve black tunic underneath an elbow length chain mail armor she had fitted to her size. Over the armor was a red vest that went to mid-thigh, right above the armor on her elbows, and crisscrossing strings along her front for easy access. The neckline of the vest had deeply colored yellow gems placed along its seam, which clashed against the vest but matched her hair. It was pinned to her waist by a leather belt that had green gems on it, which felt a bit much to some of the dwarves. On both hands, though one was hidden by a coat, were fingerless, leather gloves that ended at her wrists. The coat she held was made of a thick brown in color, material, and along the rim of the jacket was a well brushed and strange looking fur. Her dark brown pants were tucked into even darker fur-lined boots. Those with the sharpest eyes noted each boot had daggers sheathed in black scabbards, placed for should the need come.

On the belt was a clasp to a scabbard for a short, dwarven sword. The sword wasn’t fancy like her clothing, it was just a simple dwarven made sword that had probably seen many fights based on the handle's well-worn look. As she set her coat down on the last free chair in the room, by the entry hall, they saw a third weapon, a longsword, crossing over her back. Some chuckled, others gaped.

She turned to face all of them, and she took a deep breath.

“Ayth Shielden at your service.” She said light and airily, and bowed so low her head nearly touched the ground. The sword on her back slid forwards, and Gloin, a red-haired dwarf with an impressive beard that would make anyone jealous, moved to catch it should it fall out. On her body, it probably would. The sword didn’t though, it just glanced her shoulder with its hilt and stayed in its place. She stood back up with a bright smile, like she was proud of her bow, and wiped her hair from the front of her face awkwardly.

“Thorin Oakenshield at yours,” Thorin said, and bowed in his sitting form. He looked back up at the new dwarf just in time to catch a look of shock that flashed across her features, before it was gone in the next. The reaction confused him, and he wondered for a moment if she hadn’t expected to see the Heir of Durin here.

“Quite the group you have Gandalf. I recall you saying it was small.” She said, poking at Gandalf, who smiled knowledgeably.

“Thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, a wizard, and you is small compared to middle earth, Ayth.” Was his reply. She hummed her response, and swung her arms slightly as she looked around the home. Her eyes flickered over to the hobbit, which she had seen previously but it hadn’t clicked he was the hobbit. It did this time and she smiled kindly at the little three foot. Bilbo, who hadn’t been recognized once after Dwalin had entered his home, was surprised when she smiled, and could only blink back at her rudely. The woman took it in stride though and merely walked around the table and dwarves to stand before him. She bowed her lowest yet again, and Bilbo was hasty to follow.

“Ayth Shielden, at your service, Master Hobbit.” She murmured.

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours.” He answered.

“My apologies for the intrusion of my presence Master Baggins, I know my arrival was likely a surprise to you and the company, but I thank you for letting us have our meeting here. I know how messy dwarves can be.” She said kindly, unknowingly playing at frazzled strings. Irritation and anger faded from Bilbo, and instead, he now didn’t entirely mind having them here.

“It was of no problem. I am just the burglar anyways, right?” He chuckled weakly. The dwarves behind her clapped and whooped.

“We have a burglar!” They hollared. She, Ayth, rolled her eyes and smiled tightly.

“I forget dwarves can be so loud. You are not just a burglar, Master Bilbo. From what Gandalf told me, you will do more than any other burglar we find.” She said, and she sounded sincere in her words.

Bilbo blinked, his strings plucked once again. He'd never been complimented quite like this, and before he even did anything. Valar, the best thing he had been complimented on was his garden, and he didn’t even do all of it! While he didn't like adventure going and danger-seeking, he did like the feeling of being needed. He forgot the dangers of the adventure for just a moment, and instead focused on the compliment. He sighed as he set his resolve, and stood from the foot stool to get the contract that Gandalf had handed out. He took the quill from Balin, and before his resolve could disappear, he signed his name. He turned back to Ayth, who was staring at him wide-eyed.

“He hadn’t signed it yet?” She asked, her eyes still on Bilbo. Several dwarves groaned past their happy yips at him finally agreeing to come along.

“No. That stubborn hobbit wouldn’t touch anything we showed him. Which makes me wonder how you did it?” A dwarf with an odd thrice point hairstyle asked. If anyone asked, his name is Nori. The newcomer shrugged and looked at Bilbo with a curious eye.

“I was polite.” She answered. She didn’t know Hobbit customs, she didn’t know what was and wasn’t allowed, or what would offend the newly discovered species she hadn't heard of until a week ago, so she tried to be as polite as possible and hoped it was the correct thing to do with a Hobbit.

“Uh... instead of talking about me... since I have decided to come... Why don’t you ask this unexpected guest questions? I, for one wonder why she looks human but is as short as you lot.” Bilbo said. He did not like the attention now that he had it, and passed the torch as quick as possible. He slinked back to his seat, and smiled as the others suddenly became interested in Ayth.

“Yeah, why are you that way?” Ori asked. He was the youngest brother of three, and if you saw him, you'd see a small dwarf with brown hair and simple braids. At his hip adorned a slingshot, and anyone who knew Ori knew that that slingshot has blinded many a foe because of his precise aim.

Ayth stood stiffly for a moment. She watched Bilbo with owlish eyes, clearly showing him she was aware of his trick. He choked on his swallow as she faintly brushed her short sword at her hip in a coincidental way to anyone but him. She didn't do anything in the end, and instead turned to the small dwarf.

“If you must know, I’m a half dwarf.” She answered, point blank.

Several dwarves gaped at the thought. A half dwarf? Who was the father? Who was the mother? Could bloodlines even cross like that? Clearly the answer was yes if she was standing right there.

Thorin looked surprised for a whole other reason than the fact she was half anything, and Balin and Dwalin’s faces grew drawn at the prospect. Gandalf, who watched from the sidelines, chuckled silently as he watches the interactions.

“In all my years, I’ve only met one other family who were half-dwarves, and they supposedly died almost a hundred and forty-two years ago for the very reason we’re going back to the Lonely Mountain. Who is the dwarf of your lineage?” Thorin asked, a glimmer in his blue eyes. Balin sighed at his king and his hope, while Dwalin fought the urge to reach over and clap Thorin on the back of the head.

“Uh, my father... His name is Klas Shielden.” Ayth answered awkwardly, and she glanced at Gandalf for help. The wizard did nothing, but Thorin sombered at the name, and he muttered something too low for the others to hear. Ayth looked around at the others for a way out.

“How did your family get the epithet Shielden?” Dwalin asked, a subject change for the sake of all. The dwarf named Dwalin was the second tallest in the group, after Thorin. The balding dwarf had rune tattoos and battle scars, and heavy weapons that most would need two hands to wield. A biological brother to Balin, and a brother in battle to others, even the blindest would know not to mess with him.

“Somewhere along my line of dwarf, a family member became a mortal shield to orc arrows, still fought, and survived the day. He survived the poison and the blood loss, and his king dubbed him the Dwarven Shield of Royalty because the man he protected was the King’s son. Hence, Shielden. That and because my family makes dwarven shields for fun at home.” Ayth explained. Several dwarves chuckled, as did Bilbo.

“What’s your occupation?” Dori asked. Dori was a dwarf of white hair, which braided around his head and ears. Those who know him know he’s the strongest dwarf in the group of thirteen men. The chuckles died, intent to hear what she had to say.

“Well, I’m not much in the line of occupation. I’m a nomad mostly. I travel Middle Earth to whatever place finds my fancy, and earn coins through whatever jobs I find. Between towns, I’m a fighter and a ranger of sort. I know the land, different trees and what they’re good for, different herbs and how to use them. I guess I sometimes get money off of selling the herbs..." The half dwarf trailed off, a furrow in her brow like she realized something.

"Why do you want to join us on our quest?" Thorin asked as he got over his short grief. The newcomer’s eyes shot up to look at Thorin, and a frown adorned her lips. She turned to Gandalf, a glare placed where the frown was a moment ago. In the next moment, the glare was gone, and she just looked at the old wizard.

"I thought you would have told them by now." She said to him cryptically. The wizard actually looked sheepish for once, and he ducked his head.

"Yes, well... I hadn't the time to tell them of you till a minute before you got here, so I was not able to explain much but your name and prior fighting capabilities." He answered, and graced her with a gentle smile of innocent forgetfulness. She narrowed her eyes at the old man’s attempt at innocence.

"Should I assume you waited till they found my name upon that list of yours before you spoke? Because that sounds like something you’d do, ye cryptic riddler." She responded. The wizard nodded while attempting to hide a grin at the nickname. The half-dwarf shook her head.

"To answer your question,” She said as she faced the group she’d be traveling with for who knows how long. “I lost family and someone I very much loved to Smaug the Terrible. This past century has been harsh, and my nomadic lifestyle isn’t because I enjoy traveling, but because I have been trying to find dwarves who would follow me to the dragon. Gandalf here informed me not just six days ago of your company and asked me if I’d like to come along. I didn't hesitate for a second."

Many of the dwarves heard century, and that date calmed the older dwarves in the group. Kili was a gamble already, not even passing eighty. They didn't need someone younger than he, for that would be too young in dwarf years.

“Any more questions?” She asked. Silence rang for a moment, and then someone spoke out.

"Are you hungry, I'm positive there's something I can pull out of my pantry for you to eat." The concerned hobbit asked her. Ayth looked at Bilbo, and smiled honestly. He blinked once more in surprise, and almost missed her answer.

"That would be lovely. Thank you." She answered. The Hobbit nodded and left the room almost peacefully. The wizard snickered once more, almost loud enough for the dwarves to hear now. The dwarf named Fili turned to his brother Kili, and whispered quietly so only Kili heard.

"I wonder if she knows what she's doing, being kind to the hobbit like that." He whispered. His brother laughed as he watched the young looking half-dwarf lean in her chair, almost tiredly.

"When was the last you slept, lass?" Balin asked. She yawned into her hand, but she blinked alertly, as if not affected by the sleepiness she just showed. She looked up, almost as if she was trying to remember the last time she had slept. She shrugged, and swung her long sword into her lap to get comfortable.

"Last night, for a couple of hours. I was rushed to get here because Gandalf didn’t find me until six days ago, and it’s a week and a half trek from Bree to here on foot at a casual pace. It’s not too much of a problem for me, I can go a little while longer before I need to sleep." She answered like it was the most normal thing. The one named Bifur dropped his jaw at the time stamp. This dwarf could be distinguished from the others by the Orc ax lodged his head, and if that didn't catch your eye, then his skunk-like beard would.

Just as Thorin was about to ask another question, Bilbo walked in with a bowl of half warm soup and a loaf of bread. Ayth accepted the food gladly and murmured a very warm thanks as she sipped her soup.

"When’s the last time you ate then?" The hobbit asked, an amazed look in his eye. He had read of heroes and adventurers who walked across Middle Earth with barely any sleep and food. Some of them were as drastic as going a month without sleep. His mother assured him those were fiction, but he never knew what to believe. This woman would give him the facts he yearned for, and maybe the other dwarves will do the same.

Ayth swallowed a piece of bread before answering, "About the same amount of time."

The Hobbit felt both fascinated and disturbed by the announcement. Hobbits loved food, and the thought of going even half a day without it scared Bilbo. Yet here is this half-dwarf, that hadn't eaten since the night prior. Bilbo wondered what her longest time without food was, and shuddered at the thought.

"What would make you so willing to skip both essentials of being alive?" The fattest dwarf, Bombur, asked, surprised at the food thing as well. Ayth munched for a second, thinking.

"It's relatively simple to follow. Gandalf came to me right after I had just eaten and slept, told me about your journey and how you left seven days from the moment he left my sight, and the meeting would be the night before you left. I wanted to come terribly so, so I trekked from Bree to the Shire the second he left. I didn’t dare rest for too long for fear of missing you. As you can see, I got here in time," She explained. "Any more questions for me?"

"Yes. That sword you have, it's not dwarven nor Man made. Who created it?" Dwalin asked. She paused in her food and stared at the long sword she had that balanced her meal in her lap. She smiled almost fondly at it, and brushed its hilt where the word 'Oak' was engraved with a gleaming silver stone that none of the mining dwarves could name from afar.

She set her food on the table two feet from her sitting position and picked up the hilt of the sword. She pulled the sword from its scabbard and twisted the long blade expertly so the hilt faced Thorin. He took it carefully and watched the blade glow pure silver. Its metal was elven but its make was dwarven. He didn't know if he should be disgusted because it's elven, or impressed that it was elven. Instead of doing anything with his face, he passed it to the next dwarf.

"Elven, yet Dwarven. How did you manage that?" Thorin asked.

Ayth smiled proudly at the impressed sound in his voice. She grabbed her soup again before talking, "I was saved by some elves eighty years ago. I stayed in their home for a time, and used their resources to create my own weapons while I was there. All they had for me to work with was elven metal, so I used what I could. Using some skills I knew, I made a Dwarven sword out of Elven metal. I will proudly say after using it for eighty years, the goblins and orcs have affectionately named it The Unforgiver, and they tend to try and kill me when I walk on their lands. It, like most elven metaled swords, glow blue when orcs and goblins are nearby, so it is also a life saver."

The leader nodded at her explanation of the genius monstrosity. He saw his nephew's mull over the blade and smiled when he noticed they were conflicted like him. In the end, they passed it onto the next dwarf and grudgingly complimented Ayth on her skills.

Bilbo looked outside as he remembered that they had a quest to get going on in a few short hours, and he was certain all the dwarves could use some sleep. Bilbo stood and cut in as Oin, brother to Gloin, was about to ask a question. Oin can be distinguished from the others because he has to use something to hear with. That and because he too has an impressive white beard with braids curled in two different directions.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I do believe it's midnight, and didn't you say we leave at dawn?" Bilbo said to Thorin. A sword flew over his head, and he ‘eeped’ as the pointy end barely missed his head. He moved to grab it, not knowing what he'd do even if he did catch it. It'd probably just drag him forward. He didn't get a chance to test that theory, because Ayth caught the sword on its blunt side with her bare hands. Or rather, gloved hands. In the same motion she used to catch it, she slid it back in its sheath, and rested it on her lap again. Dwalin laughed as he exclaimed it was even as light as an elven sword. It appeared only Thorin had heard Bilbo, and he stood to speak.

"Very well. Everyone, Master Baggins makes a point, we should all get rest before we set off. Hobbit, lead the way." He said, and his voice rang out over all other noises. The dwarves were quick to listen to his orders and stood in unison.

Ayth set her bowl down on the table, empty, before the dwarves started walking by. She hummed pleasurably and shuffled in her seat. Bilbo watched in amazement as she went out like a light, legs curled under the chair, and she had just barely remembered to pull her thick coat over her body before she clocked out. Her long sword stayed in her lap, and was now hidden by the jacket. She looked soft and harmless, as breakable as a metal toothpick. With sharp ends. He wanted to get her in a real bed, but Gandalf stopped him. The silent wizard shook his head, and nodded to the thirteen dwarves waiting patiently for him. Bilbo sighed and moved to do his deed as a provider. When he himself laid in bed after showing the dwarves to their rooms, he faintly worried about the half-dwarf in his dining room, sleeping in a chair. It couldn’t be comfortable, but she had fallen asleep so easily. Who knows, maybe a chair was comfortable to her. He could only imagine the places she’s had to sleep on before.

Bilbo too fell asleep easily despite his thoughts, for the night had worn him tired, and there was no way to fight the lull of sleep when tired.


	2. The Beginning Of The Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company learns a little bit about the new half dwarf in their group.

The next morning before the sun began to breach the sky, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, woke up rested. He spent the first moment of lucidity wondering what he had fallen asleep on that was so comfy, and sat up to find... He was on a regular bed. A well furnished, soft cotton, and bouncy bed. He wasn’t sleeping outdoors or in a small tavern room “meant for dwarves”, he was inside a domed room of light colored clay walls and a rather beautifully furnished living space. Thorin couldn’t remember how he got there and spent his next moment of lucidity trying to remember.

That’s right. Bilbo Baggins, their resident “burglar”, had lent his many guest rooms to Thorin’s dwarves. Out of respect to the crowned king, Thorin had gotten his own room, which made Dori, Nori, and Ori share a bed. Not that that was a problem, the beds were wide and the Ri brothers were smaller in size to some of the other dwarves.

Thorin heaved himself out of the too comfy bed and onto the too smooth floors, and promptly fixed the sheets to make it look as though he’d never been there. Master Baggins had been courteous to them the night prior with his food and hearth and home, it was only respectable that Thorin kept Master Baggins’ hearth and home as close to how he found it. He made a mental note to tell all the dwarves to fix their rooms to perfection before they left as well.

The king crept through the house as quietly as a dwarf could be so he didn’t wake any of his companions or Master Baggins. He might be up before dawn, but that didn’t mean his men had to as well. It would likely be the last peaceful slumber they had for many months if things went well. They deserved the last luxuries they could get for choosing to go with him on this death mission.

Thorin made his way to the hall he spent the previous evening in, which just happened to conveniently be connected to the kitchen and dining room. He wondered if eating without the Master of the House awake was as rude to hobbits as it was to dwarves, and promptly thereafter decided he’d rather not find out. Master Baggins was small and looked nothing like the burglar Gandalf praised to him, but then, the best burglars should look like Master Baggins. Small and meek and completely underestimated. If Master Baggins turned out to be what Gandalf praised, he might just apologize for calling the halfling a grocer.

Thorin entered the dining room expecting the mess they had made last night, but found the table cleaned and fixed, the food mess he left was gone, and the mud they tracked in was removed, save for a few stains in the rugs. It was like their very existence was removed from the decorated room, save for an elven metal, dwarven crafted sword lying innocently on the table. It reminded Thorin of its wielder, which he had completely forgotten about until that moment.

His eyes swiveled to the chair he had last seen the half dwarf in and found it was empty. He continued to look around the room suspiciously, half expecting her to be in a corner somewhere washing a pot or braiding her hair. He didn’t find her in the room he stood in and couldn’t hear her in the next room, and his eyes turned back to the sword.

Curiosity peaked him, and Thorin glanced around one more time before walking up to Miss Ayth Shielden’s blade. He grabbed it with both hands, unsheathed it without any resistance, and noticed it moved with the ease of being recently sharpened. He looked over the blade in what light the room had and quickly found it had no real design adorn it. He checked it for proof of personality -a chip or scrap perhaps, but he didn’t find any of that either, much like he couldn’t find any personality in elves. He moved his gaze to the hilt just to satisfy his curiosity entirely and discovered, carved into the side of the hilt, was a word.

"Oak," Thorin whispered as he read it. He spun the hilt around to see its other side. There, adorning that side in Khuzdul, was the same word again. Thorin looked at the blade closely, squinting to find something that wasn't there. "What am I missing?"

"A lot of stuff it appears," An amused voice answered him, which prompted a jump from the dwarf king. Thorin whipped around, blade still in hand, up and ready for use against the unfamiliar voice. He was faced with Miss Ayth, who had crept quite far into the room without him noticing. She had a good-natured smile on her human-looking face as she worked the end of her hair with something weaved between her fingers. "And manners is one of them. Good morning Mister Oakenshield."

Thorin dared look away from her face to see what was in her hands and found a dark brown cord. It clicked in his mind shortly after that it was leather. Its thick strip moved in and out of her gold hair, meant to keep it in place for the journey. He watched her hands for only a moment longer and then he looked back to Miss Ayth. She wasn’t looking at him anymore, she was looking at the blade in his hand with a painfully focused stare, and he promptly placed it back on the table.

"Thorin. Morning. Apologies." He stuttered and then paused. Miss Ayth stared back with wide eyes now, hands frozen in her hair. Thorin picked up the sword again, put it back in its scabbard, and placed it on the table. He tried again, "My apologies, Miss Ayth. I wanted to look at it again, though I know I should have asked first.”

He bowed to show his apologies more physically, and was assaulted by the sound of laughter from the woman before him. He looked up at the misplaced sound, only to find she now looked at the leather that tied her braid up instead of at him.

"If I am to call you Thorin, as I assume that was what you meant when you said your own name, I want none of this Miss Ayth thing. Just Ayth. And don’t apologize, it’s not needed." Ayth answered. Thorin frowned as he watched the half-dwarf turn her back to him and walk deeper into the kitchen. He answered after her.

"Why shouldn't I apologize? I touched what's yours without asking." He called to her. She hummed loud enough Thorin could hear her, like she was letting him know she mulled over his words before she responded. There was the clinking of glass following her noise, and Thorin shuffled awkwardly.

Ayth came back with two steaming -tiny- cups of something and gestured to the table. Thorin sat stiffly at her silent command and waited to see if she'd throw the steaming water on him. It was dumb of him to think she would try anything of that nature with so many people in the house, and Thorin felt unnerved as she set the -tiny- cup of tea in front of him with careful moves so she didn’t spill it. Thorin watched the tea with piercing eyes, waiting for it to do something. Perhaps jump at him or spill the second he touched it.

“You don't have to apologize because I understand your curiosity. If you had come out any sooner you would have seen my curiosity getting the better of me as I snooped through the halls. Just make sure to get it out of your system before we hit the big road.” She answered as she sat across from him. "Now drink, the tea won't hurt you. Unless you’re allergic to mint or sugar."

Thorin lifted the corner of his lip at that, and relaxed a little under her gaze. No harm done, and she didn't look scary without her weapons. Actually, she looked as scary as Bilbo did with the light she had in her eyes right then. It reminded him a bit of Kili, almost mischievous in their intent, and he was hard-pressed to remember she was there for Erebor’s demise. That automatically made her older than most of the members of his company.

"Your mother?" Thorin asked stiffly, just to fill the silence. He also needed to know what she was leaving behind with her choice to come on this death-defying adventure, in case he needed to contact her family.

"Died under a century ago along with her sister. Old age and all." She answered, and it sounded like she was talking about the weather. Thorin stared openly at her shrug-like answer. She didn’t even sound affected at losing someone who should be close to her. Thorin himself lost his grandfather, father, and brother over a century ago, but their deaths (or disappearance) were still hard for him sometimes. Ayth smiled then, like she could see his confusion. She continued, "I was expecting it for a while."

A shiver rolled down Thorin’s spine at the way her eyes became flat as she said those words, as if no hope came with her thoughts. It was the first sign he’d seen that said she wasn’t as light as she appeared, and Gandalf’s words rang in his mind like a bell. _She has been in similar wars as you Thorin, and she always made it out alive and with fewer wounds than you did_. Thorin had brushed it off after he’d met Master Baggins, the infamous hobbit burglar, but maybe Gandalf was on to something.

"She was beyond the normal lifespan of a human, well into her nineties, and died peacefully in her sleep three days after her twin sister's passing. There was no true grief in the ordeal," She continued with the same dull tone, and then she perked up. "And I still have my father, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews."

Many things went through Thorin’s head with that finishing line, and she had answered one of his unspoken questions from the night before: Did she have someone to go back home too because this quest could become fool's gold at any point.

"Siblings? Kids?" Thorin asked to shake off the shiver he felt. Ayth laughed sheepishly, and it was like the prior moment hadn’t happened at all.

"I doubt you want to know my family... We have four generations. Each of my siblings had quite the load." She said, this time shy.

"Still, tell me at least one of your siblings family." Thorin coaxed, just to keep the conversation rolling. Anything on the half-dwarf would be better than just knowing she lived in Erebor years ago and was a nomad now.

Ayth stared at him for a long second, as if judging whether he meant what he said or not. Eventually, she shrugged and sat forwards to give him her full attention. She lifted her hands up and began counting on her fingers, and Thorin quirked an eyebrow at it.

"Let's see... My siblings were Adren, the oldest after me, who past away fifty-two years ago, Dahlia, second oldest, who passed away forty-eight years ago, Orain, second youngest, who passed away fifty-eight years ago, and Adon, the youngest, who passed away thirty-eight years ago." Ayth clicked off. She paused afterward, hesitating now like she just shared a secret that she knew Thorin was going to get immediately.

Thorin felt his eyebrows raise higher at how long ago all her siblings had died. She said Adren was the oldest _after_ her, which meant she was the oldest of five kids. What caused their deaths? Maybe that was why she was so blase about her mother’s death, because all her siblings were dead too.

Thorin made a soft motion, silently her to tell her to continue with her family. He couldn’t quite figure out what to say to the knowledge she’d given him, so he wouldn’t say anything at all. Ayth groused something too low for him to hear, raised her hands back up to count, and continued.

"Adren's firstborn, Braden, died fifteen years ago and left behind four kids of his own. Theo and Basil were twins: Theo died twenty-three years ago in battle, and Basil died nineteen years ago peacefully. Coming in after is my niece Apail, who also died nineteen years ago, and Omar, who died five years ago. Theo had two children, Theydred, who is forty-eight years old, and Alis, who is forty-three years old. Theydred had Odis who died nine years ago at sixteen, Ines who is six, and Mylor who is one. Basil had two children, Brelain, who died tragically nine years ago, and Bria, who died mysteriously four years ago. Brelain had Bradan -I think his name was- who is now twenty-one years and has no children. Bria had Aris, Uris, and Iris, all sixteen years old, triplets.” Ayth clicked off nice and quick. She took a deep breath then and appeared to count names in her head. While she was doing that, Thorin took note of how many of her family members she’d named just now that were dead. Twelve of them, which included siblings, nieces and nephews, _and_ great-nieces and nephews. They were all dying so young, and the ones still alive were also still young. The oldest of her living family thus far, Theydred, was forty-eight.

After her breather she continued with the rest of -what Thorin assumed- her first nephew’s family, “Apail had... Adren II, who is forty-seven, and twins April and Maple. April died seven years ago, but Maple is still going strong and has her own daughter, May, who is thirteen. Adren II had... Ava who is twenty-five, and... I can’t remember his second daughter’s name at the moment but I know she’s twenty-two... Going back to Braden’s kids we now have Omar. Omar is succeeded by his only child, Ivory, who is thirty-four years old and with no children that I know of... And that sums up Adren’s first born’s family.” Ayth completed. She smiled at Thorin sheepishly and asked, “Do you want to hear Adren's second born, Caire's, family?”

She sounded as sheepish as she looked after explaining her family, and Thorin’s brain hurt. That was _one_ nephew’s family tree, and that was _one_ kid of all her siblings.

“Is hers long?” Thorin asked, and it sounded like the noise was pushed from him. Ayth looked like she would laugh if she wasn’t so sheepish.

“It’s shorter. Caire’s side isn’t as productive.” She assured him.

“We’ll finish with hers then,” Thorin answered, and he sipped his tea. Ayth’s wry grin made him wonder if he’d said the right thing.

“Caire’s oldest child was named Capri. She died five years ago, at sixty-eight years old. She has a fifty-seven year old son named Farrin, who never had any kids to the best of my knowledge. Caire’s second oldest has a variation of my name, Aythin, who is sixty-four and still going strong. Then there's the triplets, Lain, Laska, and Laidra. Lain died a bachelor nineteen years ago, but probably has a bunch of kids everywhere; he was promiscuous to his dying day. Laska died thirty-two years ago, and she had Fera, Lara, and Tara, triplets who are now thirty. Lara had Teris and Taris, and they are seven. The last triplet, Tara, had Serrill who is four, and Merrill who is two. Laidra died most recently of the three, seven years ago. She was a priestess, and never had any children or relationships that I know of. Let me think... Aythin had Alina, who is forty-four, and Ablain, who is thirty-four. Alina had Laya and Lara, age twenty-five, and Elwin and Edwin, age twenty-three, and Ablain doesn’t have any children yet." Ayth said, naming all of Caire’s family members easier than Braden’s. Still, when she was done she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, exhausted by the number of people she just named.

“Want anyone else?” She asked jokingly. Thorin thought about it before he answered her, and he tried to remember the names she had said. Braden, Caire, Theo, Capri, Ivory, Laska, Tara, Teris, Taris, and Merrill were the first to pop to mind, and the others following with an ever-growing headache. Which meant that no, he did not want another.

"Just them. I don't think I can handle anymore." He answered. Ayth nodded with a grin that was already becoming familiar to Thorin, and he saw in her eyes she was relieved.

"Wise choice." She replied, and then whispered under her breath something about too many names. Thorin nodded sympathetically before an odd sense of disbelief formed in him as it sunk in exactly how large her family was. A bubbled of noise formed in his throat at the absurdity of it, which toppled over into a disbelieving chuckle. That was just _one_ sibling. She had _three_ more. The half-dwarves of her family were so productive.

"You have so much family." Thorin chuckled out, amused by the absurdity he felt. Dwarves were lucky to have four children in their lifetimes. Despite their longevity, pregnancy was never easy for their women, and here Ayth was with so many family members she's _forgotten_ some of them. Thorin could name every direct ancestor he had back to Durin the Deathless, and it wasn’t near as many names as she said now.

He tried to staunch his uncharacteristic laughs by filling his mouth with the tea once more, and it worked quite well. It was a perfect mix of sugar and mint which sent him back to the Blue Mountains, a place of comfort and peace in his mind. It struck him odd that she knew that he liked mint tea, or that he liked sugar in his tea; then he remembered how quick she’d been to get him a cup and that she also had one. She probably made it for herself initially and poured a cup for him to be polite, and not because she knew how Thorin liked it. Still, the sugar was a bold touch.

“Way too much family." She grumbled in agreement, still rubbing her temples. Thorin chuckled again before another thought struck him.

"Not to pry, but all you mentioned were your siblings and their kids. Do you not have a... another spouse? Or any children?" Thorin asked cautiously. Ayth had gotten him swept up in her families lines so well she had completely circumvented the question about her own. He almost forgot he asked the question at all, and only remembered because he was taking inventory on the dwarves in his company. Gloin and Bombur had wives and children, Fili and Kili had a mom that would kill Thorin if something happened to them, and the rest of his dwarves were spouse and child-free. If Ayth had a One or a kid this journey could bring ruin to her family, and that was on Thorin’s shoulders.

The half dwarf shrank into herself in an embarrassed manner, like she hadn’t wanted to answer that question. Her already small frame suddenly looked like a hobbit, tiny and gentle, but she still spoke loudly like a dwarf. It was a weird sight for Thorin to see.

"No. None of that. I never took another spouse, and I mentioned last night that I lost my One to Smaug over a century ago." She said quietly, as if choosing her words carefully. Thorin understood what she meant well, and filed the information she gave for later. There's the age thing again. He already knew she was alive for the destruction of Erebor, which made her at least a hundred and forty, but if she was old enough to have a One, she could be any age over a hundred and fifty-five. In the back of his head, he wondered if she was older than Balin, who was _the_ oldest right now at one hundred and eighty-eight. It was possible she was older, dwarves didn’t usually start turning grey and wrinkle until two hundred years old, Balin just got stressed into early greys.

"What about your spouse? What were they like?" Thorin asked rather boldly, if only to unsettle her and see how she reacted.

Ayth blinked and physically stuttered, clearly caught off guard by his questions, and Thorin almost considered apologizing. He watched as she looked away and out the window they sat beside as if to remember something, and her brows furrowed as she thought. The fact she had to think had him decidedly settle on the knowledge that she wasn’t older than Balin, but closer to his or Dwalin’s age. A dwarf’s memory rarely faded. Thorin’s memory of his One barely did, even if he wanted it too.

“It’s been so long since I saw his face...” She whispered hollowly, and then she looked at Thorin again. “He liked to frown and look older than he actually was like he was trying to prove something, but he could never stop smiling when I was in the room... His hair was incredibly dark and long, and his eyes always sparkled no matter the time of day. He was taller than any dwarf I'd met at the time, which wasn’t hard because I was _very_ short back then. He cared for his people. And he helped whoever he could whenever he could. He taught me many things when we were together..."

She stopped abruptly at whatever memory had risen with her words, and she turned her head to her lap as her features crumbled into something Thorin wanted to call loneliness. He watched her hand clench around the -tiny- teacup, and her thumb pressed the top of it with enough force to crack it. The dwarf’s eyes widened in reaction, and he jumped to change the topic.

“Tell me about your father.” He asked, though it came out as a demand with his urgency to get her away from her grief. She jerked up with wide eyes at his voice, and it took her time to process what he said. When she did the easy grin she had fell back into place, and Thorin thought he’d dodged an arrow. She nodded her thanks to him, and Thorin nodded back.

"My father resides back in Tow, my hometown." Ayth began easily, but Thorin didn’t get to hear what she had to say about her (still _alive_ ) father because the room was suddenly filled with dwarves.

"Here they are! Getting to know each other without us!" Bofur said cheerily as he and the five other dwarves moved towards the kitchen in a massive unit. The pair of sitting dwarves jumped at the sudden entry, and the tense atmosphere that was their conversation was gone. Thorin made to reprimand the Ur and Ri brothers for being loud while some still slept, and Ayth took that as her chance to leave the room. She was gone so fast Thorin didn’t say a goodbye of some sort, and his reprimand died on his lips.

Ayth escaped the suddenly noisy dining room and entered the maze that was Master Bilbo Baggins home. She had scoured the place high and low for something to do, and a few times had gone in loops. She’d come across Master Baggins’ room several times even though it was at the back of the house and she was trying to get to the front of it. Now, her wandering helped her as she made her way to Master Baggins’ room. She personally thought he wasn’t much of an adventurer, despite what Gandalf claimed, and would bet real money that he would sleep in as long as he wanted if they didn’t wake him. Which the dwarves would likely never consider doing.

True to her thoughts, the Hobbit was not one to wake up easily on five hours of sleep, and only grouchily got out of bed when Ayth waved an apple and some cheese under his nose. The half dwarf idly wondered, as she watched Master Bilbo eat, if he was eating in his sleep because of how he leaned against his headboard with his eyes solidly closed. She tested the idea when she asked him if he had a backpack, and what necessities he wanted to bring along. He answered about some bag at the back of his closet, and a handkerchief or two, but was clearly not putting in the effort to answer. It became glaringly obvious to Ayth that Master Bilbo had never been traveling, or at least he hadn’t for a long time when she found the bag he mentioned. It was old and well worn, but it had dust and webs on the inside that spoke of decades of disuse. As she packed it with travel necessities she mused over the _BB_ embroidered on the hood of the bag, and if it stood for his name or another family members. Who was she to judge the hobbit’s use of girly cursive writing?

When they were packed to leave not thirty minutes later she threw Bilbo’s backpack over his pony alongside her own before making sure everything was secured with a sharp jerk. Instead of putting Bilbo on his own pony, for Ayth doubted he’d even been near one before when she saw him lean against the back leg of one, she muttered something about him riding with her to the others as she tossed the hobbit onto her mare. The Hobbit didn't seem to notice being lifted onto the pony by her, and if he did, he didn't show it. Rather, he leaned into Ayth’s fur-clad frontside once she was up there with him, more content there than in his bed. Ayth was highly amused at the three-foot’s ability to fall asleep even on the pony, and adjusted her jacket to cover more of Bilbo’s upper body.

The beginning part of their walk out of Shire was cheerful, with dwarves joking and laughter ringing out. The front of the group held the quietest of them all, though not entirely the most somber. Thorin dutifully faced forwards, ignoring the laughter and jokes from behind him. Beside him was Gandalf (astride a horse), who was chuckling away like he kept hearing something funny. Behind them fell Balin, Dwalin, Bifur, Bombur, Bofur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, and Gloin in varying arrays of noisiness, and at the back, where the most noise was being created, was the halfling, half dwarf, and royal brothers. Ayth was regaling one of her more fun stories during her years at home, before she’d left for adventure, to the Durin brothers and Bilbo (after he’d woken up to raucous laughter). Their sounds bounced off the trees around them as they walked on, and it eventually brought back Bofur, a cheerful dwarf best known for his hat, mining, toy making, and musical skills. He was the brother to Bombur and cousin to Bifur, and the three of them made up the only full-blooded dwarves of the company _not_ related to the Durin.

When Bofur’s laughter joined in with the two youngest of their company, Ori and Nori fell back to figure out what was so funny. Whatever it was, Bofur was nearly falling from his mount and Kili was laying across his pony to keep from following Bofur to the dirt. When the Ri brothers were caught up with whatever was going on back there they too began to laugh and lean.

“Gandalf, the half dwarf will end up killing my men before we get passed Bree. What could she be saying that’s so funny?” Thorin groused lowly. Gandalf, the meddlesome wizard, chuckled once again despite Thorin’s words, and the dwarf king wondered if, though he shouldn't be able too, Gandalf could _hear_ them.

“Why don’t you see for yourself if you’re so curious. I’ll lead the way from here.” Gandalf answered once he stopped giggling, and he sped his horse up a bit. The king glared at the back of the wizard for a moment and then slowed down his steed down. Bombur passed him first, and Thorin went to the side of the road to not block his company from moving by. He waited there until the group of seven passed him, and then he came up from behind. He watched as Fili leaned on Kili, hand to his stomach like the laughter was causing him pain. Kili didn’t look much better as he leaned over the front of his pony, arms almost wrapped around its neck to keep himself on it. The smiles on his nephews' faces made Thorin soften, and for a moment he wondered if he should even try to figure out what the half dwarf was saying.

“Go on, continue. What did your brother do after you told him?” Bofur asked. Ayth looked up, a soft grin adorning her face and a joyful shine in her grey eyes. She saw Thorin when she looked around at the dwarves and kept his gaze as she answered.

“Well, when I told him that it was warg fur, he threw my coat down as if he’d been burned, and ran to mom yelling an orc had taken control of me. He came back at me with my own sword, swinging it like a madman, yelling ‘Back orc, back I say. Mom! Ayth’s an orc, I repeat, Ayth is an orc!’ Ah, a terrible day that was, Orain wouldn’t look at me for a month, and every time he came near me, he’d whisper ‘Orc’ under his breath.” She explained gleefully. A memory of the happier time flashed in her eyes, and she grinned wide enough her teeth showed for a moment. A new bout of chortles went around when Kili turned to Fili and said, “Back Orc, back I say!” When Fili jumped at his brother, Kili yelped uncle.

“Please tell us another,” Bilbo said after the brothers returned to their individual ponies. Everyone turned to her with expectant looks then, and Thorin wondered just how many stories she could share before she ran out.

Ayth kept her gaze on Thorin for several extra seconds to gauge his sudden appearance, and then flicked her eyes away from him as she opened her mouth to start her next story. Ori had noticed her staring though, and turn around to figure out what had kept her gaze so long. He saw the Company’s Leader behind them then and eeped quietly, which didn’t go unnoticed by his brother, and soon all the company knew that their leader was tailing them. None of them knew for how long though.

Thorin, upon noticing their reactions, remembered why he’d come back here to begin with. Their laughter had been shaking the trees, and he was fairly certain someone from Bree had heard them. He sighed quietly, put on his ‘brooding king look’, and sped his pony up to get next to Ayth. The dwarves parted for him without resistance, though Fili whispered ‘Don’t do it uncle’ as he passed by. Thorin glanced at Fili and considered it for a moment.

On one hand, it was now clear to him that she was able to bring fun and joy on the journey. When their spirits were downtrodden by the travels, it was possible she’d be able to cheer everyone up. When morale was low, perhaps she had a story to help that. When things were tense, it was possible she would be able to make everyone relax. She could be someone he could count on to keep his Company from falling into fear or depression on this quest. On the other hand, he imagined Ayth continuing to tell stories as they entered the more dangerous parts of their journey, and what the dwarves laughter could draw to them in the mountains and forests. Of course, she may be smart enough to realize that, but if she’s never traveled with anyone, or if she’s never traveled somewhere _dangerous_ , then it was equally possible she wouldn’t realize the disaster she could bring. Thorin had to focus solely on his Company, in the end, and do what he thought was safest for his companions who chose to join him on this suicide mission. As of that moment, he didn’t know enough about the half dwarf to let her continue. Until he knew her better, he had to keep things quiet.

“I’m sorry, Fili.” He answered genuinely, and turned away before he could see the crushed look on his nephew’s face. He continued towards Ayth, much tenser now than he had been a moment ago.

Ayth, who knew something was coming as the king came up to her and Bilbo, tightened her grip on the halfling and turned her body slightly in means to hide him. She covered as much of him as he’d allow and she put a hand on her short sword. Bilbo, the unlucky hobbit, watched from his perch in front of her, his body covered but his blond head definitely sticking out.

“Is there a problem?” Ayth asked as Thorin drew near. He raised an eyebrow at her, then looked down at Bilbo Baggins.

“Nothing at all. Continue with your...” Thorin paused for a moment to look back at the dwarves that followed somberly now. Fili shook his head slightly but remained silent. “Jokes. Or whatever you call them. I just came by to see what could cause noise loud enough for Bree to hear.”

He looked over at Ayth again, and though the hobbit in her arms had shortened a few inches under his gaze, she did not. She continued to stare at him until it became unnerving. Her gray eyes blazed dangerously with challenge, and she opened her mouth to speak. Thorin took in a deep breath and prepared for the worst: a verbal fight.

“A skeleton walks into a bar. He orders a beer, and then a mop.” She said, short and curt. Bilbo laughed sharply where he perched, and the others snickered. It took Thorin a moment to realize she _had_ continued, and she’d told a joke. To his face. And it was a little funny.

Ayth grinned at the little smile Thorin expressed before he controlled his features once more. Emboldened, she started another.

“An elf walked into a bar...” She paused for a dramatic moment, and Thorin narrowed his eyes, daring her to say the next sentence. “The dwarf laughed and walked under it.”

The others laughed a little louder as Thorin blinked at the terrible joke, and then a small chuckle vibrated its way out of his chest. Ayth relaxed in her saddle, and her sword slid back into its place. She uncovered Bilbo so he was no longer hidden from view.

“Do that other one, the one about orcs and an elf,” Nori told her, and his brother chuckled into his knitted gloves as he remembered it.

“Very well... An army of orcs are traveling to Rohan for a battle. On the way there, they pass a large hill. Behind the hill, they hear a voice shout ‘One elf is better than ten orcs!’ Annoyed at this, the orc chief sent ten of his best fighters over the hill. There’s the sound of a short battle, then the voice shouted, ‘One elf is better than a hundred orcs!’ Angered by this, the orc chief sent a hundred of his best fighters. There’s another battle before everything goes silent. The voice comes again, ‘One elf is better than a thousand orcs!’ The orc chief is enraged and sends the rest of his men, save himself. They go over and a fierce battle takes place. After several long moments of silence, one of the orc’s soldier comes back over. ‘What happened?’ said the orc chief, and the orc soldier replied, ‘We were tricked! It was one dwarf!’” Ayth explained easily and with a grin.

Thorin raised both his brows at the punchline, and a single bark of laughter came out fell from his lips. And then another. He began to laugh solidly but quietly, compared to others that shook the trees once again. Ayth's face lit up with glowing pride, and she sat taller on her tiny steed.

“That was a good one,” Thorin admitted. The dwarves let varying noises of surprise that he admitted to being humored, and Ayth's wide grin grew smaller, into a soft smile.

"Are we allowed to continue our jokes? Or whatever we call them?" She asked, quoting what he'd said previously. Thorin sobered at the reminder and remembered why he said that to begin with. They were loud and it could be a problem in the future.

Though maybe, for the time being, he should let her be. He could tell her to stop later down the road, and her tales had to end at some point. He could learn her stories later from his men as well, to learn more about her. Like that her coat was apparently made of Warg.

"I suppose you can for the time being. I’ll take my leave now and head now to the front to leave you be." Thorin answered as he schooled himself back into a leader persona. He leaned forward on his pony after his words, encouraging it to walk faster. The half dwarf watched the king’s sudden departure, and she sighed heavily.

"Mister Bofur, would you mind taking Master Bilbo?" Ayth asked the dimpled dwarf kindly. Bofur looked at Ayth as saddled in beside him, and nodded once. She promptly unfurled Bilbo from her coat and picked him up like an overly large baby. The hobbit gasped and froze up as she passed him to Bofur, who wobbled a bit with him before he was safe across his steed.

"Of all the things-" Bilbo started, but trailed off as Ayth chased after the dark leader. He huffed, "Rude!"

“Did you ever hear the story of The Two Pots?” Ayth asked Thorin after she fell in beside him. The king jumped out of his thoughts and looked over at Ayth. He didn’t dine to say yes or no to her question as annoyance set in, and he didn’t care what she thought when he turned back to the front. She waited for a few seconds for his answer then continued anyway.

“It was hurricane season down by the river and houses were being flooded. Two pots were carried out of their home by the flood water, one of copper, one of clay. As they traveled the stream they saw a hill that could save them. The copper turned to the clay and said, ‘Dear friend, you are made of mud. Come to me and I can help you to the shore’.” Ayth began, quick and to the point with whatever moral she was trying to lay on the older dwarf. Thorin raised his eyebrow as he became confused, and he looked back over at her. What in Mahal...

“Where are you going with this?” He asked.

“Hush and just listen for a moment,” Ayth shushed before she continued. “The clay pot said, ‘Thank you for your kindness, my friend. But, let me try and swim to the hill by myself.', and proceeded to swim safely to the hill. The copper pot tried to follow his friend, but he was heavy. He ended up getting filled with flood water and drowned, while the clay pot survived.”

The king stared owlishly at the half dwarf at the abrupt ending of the story, and she stared back patiently. His eyebrows twitched up and down as he tried to figure out what she wanted to convey with that story, and eventually, he gave up.

“What did that story have to do with anything?” He asked. Ayth graced him with an amused smile across her hairless face, and Thorin was beginning to think something was wrong with her. There couldn't possibly be a smile for every situation. Ayth looked about, checking for anyone close enough to hear her, and then leaned over like she was telling Thorin a secret.

“The story tells us that weakness is not in appearance. You can relax and have fun, Mister Oak- _Thorin_ , even as our Company’s leader. I would actually advise it. The closer the bond to your people, the more loyal they are to their leader. Relax, have fun. Worry about your appearance in battle and politics. Not out here with friends. They already respect and follow you, otherwise they wouldn't be here. Showing them you can have fun will do more good than harm.” She murmured.

Thorin looked at her light grey eyes closely, for they told what her smile didn’t. She was speaking from previous experience, he could see it clear as day in them. There was that pinched muscle around the eyes that told of a worrier, and the subtle shift in where she looked like she was taking in the surroundings even as she talked and moved.

“Whatever you experienced, I don’t have the same option-” Thorin began to say, but was stopped before he could finish.

“Yes. You do,” Ayth cut him off, rather rudely at that. Thorin pulled back in surprise, not used to being so cleanly talked over. Or talked over at all for that matter. Instead of apologizing, Ayth continued, “Everyone here knows the danger of this quest and what may await us in the Lonely Mountain, though I _am_ wondering about Master Bilbo. They know they can die at any moment, but they came when you called, for they follow their king. A strict and distant ruler can rule well, but he will not have the utmost loyalty whilst doing it. A ruler that laughs with his people is a better one.”

"So you think I shouldn’t have a care in the world so that my men’s utmost loyalties are to me? What would the others say if they saw me constantly joking and laughing and not taking anything seriously?" He bit back harshly. Ayth didn’t duck away at his slightly raised voice (he’d done it so she couldn’t cut him off again), nor did she look at the ground like a scolded child, or back down from her attempt at telling him what to do. She continued to stare at the dwarf, and she stared long enough it started feeling creepy.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you to do,” She said eventually and quite sarcastically, and she turned away to shake her head. Save her the stubbornness of dwarves and rulers. "Fine, your belief is your belief, I cannot control you, I can only give advice. I will say it one last time though: loosen up, have fun sometimes with your men. It may make you a better leader than your forefathers, and if not, you are not a terrible leader already. No matter which you choose though, when you’re in the heat of the moment, when you're fighting for the lives of your people, no one will see you as the King who laughs, but as the King they want to follow."

Ayth’s hand slipped into her coat to touch something as she said ‘your people’, and Thorin saw several things gleam from within in the sunlight. It appears that the she-dwarf had more weapons than he previously thought, but before he could see what they were she slowed her pony down to return to the quiet group behind them. Thorin piped a question before she could get too far, his curiosity over her history winning out over his annoyance at that moment.

"How do you know this? I can see it, you’re speaking from experience, but I thought you were a nomad." He asked her bluntly. Ayth’s eyes shot up to his, surprise written across her features. Thorin hadn’t seen the expression on her yet, and it looked a little funny to him.

"I wasn’t always a nomad, Thorin, I just left home a long time ago. My old home is near Orc territory. I was the leader there until my cousin took my place years ago. Orc would appear often, especially in the winter seasons, and I found that everyone looked to me when they came. I was young when I started, a few years into being a stripling dwarf wise but old enough human wise that the title fell to me when my father stepped down. I was known as a fun-loving and easy minded half dwarf in the town, before and after I ruled. That never mattered to my people though, because I was the leader they expected and needed when something bad happened. I earned the respect of all of my people -and I started with absolutely none because I was half of two species- by being that way, and here you have fourteen people that already respect you.” Ayth answered him. She paused to stare at Thorin, and Thorin stared back. He didn’t quite know what to say to her now. To be fair he didn’t know what he expected when he asked the question, but her even tone and almost casually said answer hadn’t been it. Especially given the details she told. Her old home is near _Orc Territory_ ? There went Thorin’s concern that Ayth had never traveled somewhere dangerous, because she _grew up_ somewhere dangerous.

Ayth graced Thorin with another one of her friendly smiles, and she leaned across her pony with her arms over its neck like she was relaxing.

“If that doesn't change your thoughts about smiling more, maybe this will. I return home every several years, and about a year back I was close enough home that I could visit. The town stood with a larger population than when I left it, and the kids that I played with years before were long gone, but their kids and grandchildren knew of me and respected me because of the leader I had been. One of the first stories of myself they told me was when I fought fifty orcs to one. Greatly exaggerated, of course, it was ten warg-riding orcs and my uncle Elras was with me, but I wasn’t going to crush the children’s hearts. They told of how I stood alone to protect my home, and when the last one fell I turned to my people battered, bruised, bleeding from multiple injuries, and cracked a joke, 'Who wants Orc meat, cause there's plenty’, which _is_ true." Ayth explained, and Thorin saw a flash of a sad look on her face. She schooled it quickly. "And that's how I know about all this."

She stopped her pony then, and fell behind him into the quiet group behind her. They took her in with questions of what she said, and she started, once more, on the tale of fifty orcs to one, but this time with much more description. Thorin rode on ahead a little and didn’t look behind, but he stayed close enough to listen to her stories. He learned more about her ‘Town Clown’ time before she became a leader, her gambles with nobles from neighboring towns, and tricks she played on some of the people she was closest to in the town. Thorin noticed, as she talked, that he and she were not so very different in some aspects. She wouldn’t talk about Erebor even when asked a direct question, but she occasionally mentioned it before starting another tale. From what he glistened, she’d lived in Erebor with her father, who kept things hush about her because of the conspiracies of interlacing relationships. The same father was both founder and ruler of the town she’d mentioned, but he brought her to the Lonely Mountain to teach her more about dwarven culture. Thorin wondered why he hadn’t known of her living in his home. The other half dwarf’s parents hadn’t kept secret their relationship or their daughter, and besides some ostracizing from others, they were never threatened to the best of his knowledge.

Thorin eventually learned what she did when Smaug attacked after listening in on her stories for a few days. Ayth was taken into the sewers with her father to escape. She went back to her home after the ransacking, where their family had waited for them. There was no sign of her grief as she talked, but he knew it was because her stories were supposed to be funny and happy. Grief and loss never were those things. She became the ruler of her kingdom a few years later, and it had fallen on her to take care of her people. Thorin mused over the knowledge that he suffered a similar loss as she with Erebor, but he didn’t have another home to go back too. He fought larger and more brutalized battles than she did -though it was possible she left those out too-, and from a young age he too had been a leader and protector of his people. Thorin began to wonder how they grew up so similarly, and yet they turned out so different. Then he began to wonder if maybe he could try to open up as she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who clicked on my story. It means the world to me to know some of you find it worthwhile to read.


	3. History of Thorin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took longer than I expected. I lost half the edits I made from my computer crashing and had to comb through the chapter again, and I'm not sure I got all of them this time around. Still, I hope you all enjoy the chapter.

Perhaps two weeks, if Bilbo counted right, Thorin and Company trekked the land. They started in pastures and meadows, which gave way to a forest, which lasted a week and two days before opening to a town called Bree. Gandalf was intent to get supplies they might need while here, though wouldn’t say what it was he wanted to get to convince them. The only one to initially agree with him had been Bofur because that meant he could get more tobacco. After several others found reasons to visit the Bree Market (smoke pipes, food, a blanket, arrows, clothes, firewood, a new backpack), Thorin relented and gave the company an hour to get what they wanted. When the hour was up they saddled in on their ponies and continued on their journey.

Ayth remained in the back to tell her stories as the days went by. Dori and Dwalin went back there after three days, _initially_ to make sure no one got rowdy, which failed once they joined the now normal sounds of laughter. Gandalf led the front lines with the company of Bombur, Oin, and Gloin to talk with, while Balin teetered between both groups depending on which stories caught his interest.

The leader of the Company stayed in the middle of the groups, never choosing one to walk beside for longer than a conversation. His spoken reason was that he wanted to be close enough to help all of his men (and woman) as fast as he could should trouble arise, but the real reason was that he kept thinking about the half dwarf’s words, mulling over the idea of listening to them. The longer he heard more of her stories, coupled with the fact that she got Dwalin, Bifur, and Balin to laugh at all, the more he considered listening to her advice. He had already accidentally slipped into a random conversation to share his thoughts about which beer he liked and why he liked it, and it hadn’t occurred to him how out of place his casual comment on an arbitrary conversation was until he saw Gloin, Balin, and Bombur looking at him with surprise. Then when Gloin pressed him for more reasons, Thorin wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t the biggest conversationalist by nature. Anyone could take his words and twist them to their own needs, thus he usually held silent until he needed to speak or decide.

And yet the half dwarf did it with surprising ease. She’d make a comment oh so casually, even when it went against what one of the others said, and she didn’t consider the consequences. It took Thorin about the distance to Bree to realize what she was actually doing. She made many comments and opinions in a _large_ group, but when it was just her and the hobbit or her and Nori she kept straight to the facts and the most basic of statements. The number of ears listening to her story changed her approach, and when Thorin realized that, he understood why she spoke with ease. The next time he let slip a casual comment (why a fur bed was better than a hay bed), he received the same surprised looks as before from Balin, Gloin, and Gandalf. When Gloin once again pressed for him to explain, Thorin did.

When they settled for camp that evening Gloin brought up the conversation again with Dwalin, Oin, and Bifur now with them. At one point Oin said something wrong because he’d misheard Thorin, and Balin had been there to correct him. The many against a one on one. Their conversations did eventually turn into a crasser version of the original intent now that Dwalin had joined Gloin, but even then Thorin continued to interject whenever he had a comment. It wasn’t as often as the others, but still, he spoke. He got the same surprised expressions from Dwalin and Bifur as he had from Balin and Gloin, but no one questioned it. Come the next day Bifur teased him about the fur on his coat, and Gloin laughed.

Despite the breakthrough he had about conversing with his dwarves in friendly banter, Thorin never actually did what Ayth said. He didn’t tell a story about himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk, it was that he didn’t have a story to tell. Almost everything important in his life was known by everyone even if he was silent most of the time. It came with his title as Durinson and king, and all the small things in between didn’t seem important or long enough to make into a story either.

On the eve of their fifteenth day, Gandalf stopped the group in large alcove made of rock. It overlooked a ledge, had a large stone wall that protected them from any possible winds and rain, had vantage points in all directions with only one way for anyone to come in from, and was large enough to fit the company and their steeds.

"We stop here for the night. I dare say we won't find a better spot to sleep safely for several more miles," Thorin called out over the others loudly. “Kili, Fili, get the firewood off Ayth.”

The Durin brothers came up quickly from behind Dori and over to the half dwarf that was in the process of dismounting a sleeping Bilbo. She waved to them that they were free to get what they pleased, and they went around to the back end of her pony take a few firewoods.

Thorin watched Ayth carry the tired hobbit out to the cliff and set him near the edge. She then sat down next to him, and for a few seconds it looked like that was all she was going to do. Then she leaned over and whispered something to the halfling. Bilbo shot up and backed away from the edge with a yelp at whatever she said. He ran to his shared pony, got out some pots, and ran to Bombur with them. Thorin watched as the hobbit and Bombur set to work on the dinner for the company and saw that Bilbo stole sharp glances, without any heat in them, at the only female in their group from time to time.

Thorin gave an order to Oin and Gloin to settle the ponies down for the evening and let the others do what they wanted until it was time to set the watches. He then stood there for a moment as he looked between the group of dwarves laying out their bedrolls and the lone half dwarf that sat on the ledge. He wondered if he should finally try to talk to Ayth again. Their last conversation hadn’t ended terribly, but he has kept a distance from her like she was a plague since then, and he wasn’t sure she'd be nice to him again after so long. He hadn't been ignorant to her stares throughout the weeks either, which could mean she wanted to talk to him, or that she wanted to make sure he didn’t sneak up on her and the group she saddled with again.

He wanted to tell her that her advice wasn’t half bad though, that he’d listened to it in the simplest terms and found a good ending. He wasn’t going to become whatever cheery leader she’d been in her youth, he wasn’t that easy to change, he just wanted to let her know he listened. So maybe she’d listen to him when he advised (or ordered) her to do something. Having half a thought on his part he went over to the silent form of Ayth. He got within three steps of her when she spoke to the dying sunlight.

"What about your family? Siblings I mean. I already know about your parents... Your story is widely known to the dwarven houses, but I’ve never heard about siblings." Ayth spoke aloud. Thorin stopped short, a little surprised by her. First off that she even knew it was him and not one of the others, which miffed him a bit because that meant she’d figured out how to look out for him without actually looking. Secondly, he'd pointedly ignored her for half a month and she acts as if it's not even been a day.

Thorin continued the last three steps before sitting down next to Ayth's relaxing form. He looked around the ledge and across the distance where there was grass on the other side for any dangers, and then at the sky as the stars grew to be. Lastly, he looked at the half dwarf herself, who was leaning back on her hands, eyes closed, and head tilted back, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world.

"I have a younger sister, Dis, who had Fili and Kili, and Frerin... He died in Azanulbizar. Beyond that, no immediate family." Thorin answered shortly, and it felt a little ridiculous how different they're families were. Ayth looked at Thorin with an appraising eye, like she was studying his features, and then behind them at Fili and Kili for a few moments. She looked at him once more with a quirked eyebrow.

"I see the resemblance now. And a spouse?" She asked as she looked back up at the sky. She kept her eyes open this time, and Thorin thought she might be watching him in her peripheral. He almost felt like smiling at her question because he knew how she got her line of thought. It was almost payback, which he admittedly deserved for asking her about hers.

"Same as yours. She was killed by Smaug, and I never looked for a second. She was but a young stripling, a few years younger than I, and she was nothing more my closest friend then given our ages. And... She was a half dwarf." Thorin answered softly. Ayth slouched visibly at that, and she looked down at her lap. She stayed quiet for a long time after his words, and he wondered if he'd somehow made her sad. Did she know who he spoke of? From the tales she told of the lonely mountain she wasn't focused on what was beyond the mountain walls, and she had never mentioned hearing about another half dwarf. She would make an off comment about the studies she had, casually mention a couple of teachers she knew, _very_ briefly hint about her One, and not much else could be pulled from her.

"It must be hard to be in the presence of another half dwarf. Though, I guess it could also help the pain if you think about it in the right way." She said finally. Ayth looked at him with a sad smile, and then over Thorin's shoulder to the camp like she’d heard something. Her sad smile switched to somber amusement. "That null-headed three foot. I best help him before he kills himself stroking the fire."

She stood gracefully and left the exiled king with his thoughts. He cursed himself not soon after, for there had been a reason he came over, but she had started the conversation before he spoke. She made it about him and his history, instead of what he planned to say; that her advice was not half bad, and he listened to some of it finally with rather good results. He didn't talk about his history with anyone (yet), but he'd conversed casually about the nothings of their world with several dwarves a few times now. Though, if he thought about it, she had put to action what he wanted to talk about. He'd easily told her about Little A, a piece of his history he never talked about because of the pain that usually followed. That hadn't happened this time.

The rest of the evening passed nicely and without many hiccups. A half moon lit the area the fire couldn't lick, and the food they had made the area smell nice. After a flavorful meal, and after Bilbo lamented about missing tea time for so long it became a soliloquy, most of the dwarves got into their own little beds along the stone ground and chatted as they fell asleep. The ones not in bed were Gandalf, Thorin, Fili, Kili, Bilbo, Ayth, and Bofur. Thorin leaned comfortably against the stonewall, lulled by the sound of happy dwarves and a silent beat he made with his moving foot. Gandalf sat on a smooth rock beside Bofur as they smoked their pipes together, humming a nameless tune to himself. Bofur could barely keep his eyes open where he leaned, but he still managed to puff from his mouth rhythmically enough to keep the tobacco burning. Ayth sat next to the young royal brothers once more, telling them another one of her never-ending stories, this time set on making them cry. From what the hobbit could overhear as he snuck against the wall, Ayth was recounting a couple she knew thirty years back. A couple separated by untimely deaths, and what the living counterpart did in his grief. She was on the part of his own deathbed, for he had been in battle and mortally wounded by the same cave troll that had taken his beloved. His family and comrades surrounded him, and even his warrior-hardened father had a tear for his son’s early death. Fili had a deep frown in place as his eyes betrayed his sadness, and Kili hung onto Ayth's every word while his eyes glistened.

Bilbo slipped past Thorin quietly to go over to his pony and feed her his apple. He was trying to shush the animal from her loud crunching when a strange scream came from the darkness across the ledge they sat against. The halfling looked back at the company for advice on how to react, for he didn't know how common screams were in the wild. He watched Ayth grab her short sword on reflex, and the brothers suddenly looked alert, any pretense of tears gone.

"What was that?" Bilbo asked as he scampered closer to them. Kili shook his residual sadness off and sat a little stiffer as he looked over the wilderness.

"Orcs." He whispered, and Bilbo gaped. Orcs? He thought this journey would only have a dragon!

"Orcs!" The strangled sound from the hobbit vibrated against the curved wall, and the king snapped up with a jolt, reflexively reaching for his ax at the word. Ayth stiffly adjusted herself to be more against the wall.

"Yeah. Throat cutters. There’ll be dozens of them out there.” Fili backed, just as serious as his brother.

“They come in the middle of the night when everyone's asleep. Silent they kill. There's no sound, though there is a lot of blood." Kili answered after his brother. The three sitting dwarves look at each other gravely for a moment, before Kili’s lips twitched, and the brothers started laughing at the face Bilbo was making. Ayth didn’t, she just watched the brothers with an unreadable expression.

"Do you think it's a joke? You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?" Thorin asked them, silencing the two snickering dwarves. The royal brothers looked over at their uncle, saw his angry frown, and they pinched their lips closed.

“It was for fun,” Fili muttered quietly, and he turned his eyes to the fire.

"We didn't mean anything by it," Kili said, as if that would work as an apology to the king. Their uncle looked at them for a hard second, and then he sighed.

"No. You didn't." Thorin echoed, which was the problem for them. They could joke because they didn’t know. They only knew the stories.

Bilbo sat next to the dwarves for safety, though he kept his distance after what Fili and Kili just did. The brothers kept their heads down at their uncle’s scold, and Ayth remained silent through it all. Thorin was mildly surprised that Ayth didn’t try to stand up for his nephews in this. He’d heard her joke about orcs on their journey, about the raids that did and didn’t work on her home, but when Fili and Kili made jokes she remained silent. Maybe she knew the difference between a well-timed joke and a mean jab.

"Thorin should still get a joke," Kili said to Fili with no real heat once Thorin had turned away. They were used to the sharp ire of Thorin on sensitive topics, and they learned how to bounce back from them.

"Maybe some of his anger is because of a woman," Fili replied, and the brothers smiled humorously at the idea. Their uncle had never shown an interest in such a thing as finding his ‘One’. They’d asked why once when they were younger, and Thorin had said he didn’t need too. He had them.

“Like that would ever happen.” Kili retorted, and the atmosphere for them turned back to a light tone. Ayth tilted her head at them, confused by their words.

“But... Wasn't there one?” She asked them. Thorin had told her himself about his One just a few hours ago, so why did Fili and Kili sound so sure that he didn't have one?

The brothers paired her with equally confused looks similar to hers then. They looked at each other, over at Thorin as he turned back around to look at them at their words, and back to Ayth.

“No?” Kili said the same time Fili asked, “Where did you get that idea?”

Ayth looked over at Thorin this time, and then back at Fili and Kili. Before she could answer them, Balin rose from the group of (almost) sleeping dwarves, and the three looked at him. He was staring back at them critically, and his deep frown said a story none of them knew.

"Was there one?" Bilbo asked Balin after the silence had stretched for too long. Balin nodded once, and a sad smile covered his face. The brothers’ faces danced from confused to soured looks at his answer, and Ayth tilted her head curiously at them. Thorin had rather willingly told her about his late One a short bit about, so she was surprised the brothers didn’t know anything about her. Considering they were ( _apparently_ ) his nephews.

Balin looked over at Thorin to silently ask for permission to answer Bilbo verbally before he made any sounds. The topic of a lost One was sensitive for the other half that lived, even after they found a second, for time and love could only heal the wound, never the scar. Thorin always took the death personally as well, as if he could have known what was happening at the time, and never moved past it.

The dwarf under scrutiny stared at the small group for a long minute as he decided whether he wanted to hear his own story or not. Balin would never be able to tell the entire thing, he'd never met Little A. He only knew what Thorin told him, and after Erebor burned he rarely ever spoke of her. If Balin spoke there would be questions only he could answer. Was he even up for answering questions like that?

Thorin glanced at Ayth, like maybe she had an answer for him since her loss was similar to his. He didn’t know if she felt guilt with her grief as he did, but she was the only one in the Company that could share a similar wound because both of their Ones were taken by the same beast.

She stared back apathetically, any glimpse of an expression gone from her features at that moment. It was a rather startling change in her usual outward appearance, and it took Thorin a second to realize that she did it on purpose. She expressed no emotion so Thorin felt no pressure on his choice. If he said yes she would listen to his story, but if he said no she would make sure no one asked questions. He raised an eyebrow at her and glanced at Balin subtly to silently ask if he should let Balin explain his story. The half dwarf looked over at Balin for a second, then back to Thorin, and then she shrugged unhelpfully. She smiled though, definitely kind and almost cheery in appearance. Silent encouragement.

Thorin looked back at Balin with his decision made and nodded his head once. His agreeance to express that which he rarely spoke of in all his years was a brave step forward, almost exactly what Ayth recommended weeks ago (though she said to loosen up not to sober down), and he was willing to give it a go. He could say stop at any point he wanted, because if there was ever a topic dwarves knew not to push it was this one. His nephews might because they never knew about it until now and might take that personally. He had always tiptoed a line with them, aware that if they knew they would ask every question their young minds could think of. To his credit, he never lied to them. They always asked _why_ he didn’t try to find his One, never _if_ he ever had a One.

Balin shrugged out of his bed at Thorin’s nod and walked over to sit with the four companions, who had an array of emotions across all their faces. Kili and Fili felt a bit consternated to learn so late in life that Thorin had had someone, and were confused why they never knew before. Ayth was a bit curious to know why Thorin’s One wasn’t known to the brothers, and why Balin looked sad about it. Bilbo was unsure of what to feel; he didn't know the dwarves enough to know about this, but judging on all their reactions it was something very serious.

"There was one once, Mister Bilbo. There was once someone in Thorin's life that he cared for, and she cared for him. They were friends with no thought to be more, but it was obvious to everyone that they were well on their way to being a couple by adulthood. They were nigh inseparable when they didn’t have duties to attend to, and it didn’t hurt that they were betrothed." Balin answered slowly, the simplest he could put what once was in word form.

The others, after being knocked into sleepy consciousness by Bilbo, sat up at Balin’s admission. None of them had heard this story before, or knew even a hint of its existence until now. Gandalf turned his attention to Balin as he spoke, and Bofur no longer felt tired. Only Dwalin didn't react, mumbling, "Heard this before."

"Was?" Gandalf asked curiously. Balin glanced at Thorin again to see if he was allowed to speak further. Mentioning his One and explaining the story of her were two different things, and Gandalf’s question asked for the story. Thorin took less time to nod again, and then he turned to face away from the crowd of dwarves (hobbit and wizard) just in case he reacted visually.

"Yes, Mister Gandalf. They met a long time ago, when Thorin was twenty-three years old, only a little over a year before Smaug appeared. Thror was still king, and dwarves and humans and elves lived in relative peace. Prince Thorin took his title as heir seriously, and when his father Thrain mentioned the continuation of the Durin line was important they chose to find a betrothal for when he came of age, only seventeen years from then. When word got out women from all places came: old, young, human, dwarven, _elven_ , poor, rich, single, and married. So Thrain saved his son by setting the same standard his father before him had set. They couldn't already be betrothed, courting, or married, be a generation older than Thorin, or already have kids. The numbers went down, but there were still many women that came." Balin began evenly, and Thorin smiled at the reminder. That was a simpler time, when walking around brought parents asking for him to accept their daughters, instead of children asking him where their parents went. He sometimes forgot his life had once been easy.

“Time continued on after that with no signs of an agreement from Thrain. Despite the need to make sure the line was secured, they didn’t need to rush anything. As I said, they had seventeen years to pick, and Thrain wanted to make sure he picked the right woman for Thorin so that his son didn’t live lovelessly.” Balin continued, a bit more hesitant now. Because he didn’t know the story or because he didn’t want to say the wrong thing, no one knew, and he didn’t get the option to continue either.

"I met her completely by accident." A deep voice said just as Balin finished his sentence, and it made everyone jump. Even Gandalf did, though he'd never admit it.

All eyes turned to the exiled king who had just spoken, and whose back was turned to them. He was silent as he thought over about what he planned to do, _explain_ his story to the best of his abilities, and all waited for him respectfully. After a while, so long that even Dwalin sat up, Thorin sighed and faced them. He decided to listen to Ayth’s advice fully, and try and open up. The opportunity was there and he’d take it, even if just to reminisce without the guilt he usually felt. He’d smiled at Balin’s words, and had been able to casually talk about Little A earlier with Ayth. The worst that could happen was that he couldn’t finish it, and no one would judge him.

"Erebor was a two-hour foot journey away from the town of Dale, so we were always on friendly terms with the Men that lived there. We traded with one another and had portions of our cities sectioned for the comforts of each other. These close quarters made close bonds between man and dwarf, and sometimes, though very rare, the races would mix." Thorin explained and pointed at Ayth, who ducked her head in acknowledgment.

"During my father's childhood, a new family came to the Lonely Mountain. One where, for centuries, a line of dwarves paired off with humans every now and again. It started with one dwarf, Bredain, who married a human woman. Through their marriage, they had Durain, a surprise because no one knew the bloodlines could cross. He was a tiny child who grew slow while his mind grew fast. When he was full grown he was as tall as dwarves and as wide as humans, had the strength of dwarves and the appetite of men, and felt how dwarves did but thought as humans did. The only remarkable bad features he had from both sides was dwarven stubbornness and Man’s sometimes too kind heart." Thorin continued, and smiled faintly at his own humor. Some dwarves chuckled at his words, and the others smiled.

"When Durain was born, the new breed came to be, but it wasn't to last, for there was no other half-dwarf, save for his brother and sister. So he married a dwarf and had Thordain. Thordain also married a dwarf and had Therain, who married a dwarf and had Bredain II, who married a dwarf and had Urdain. Urdain was more dwarven than any of his forefathers after Bredain I, with hardly any human blood left in him. He was credited as the one who saved the special line because he married a human, and their son had the best of both worlds as his forefather did. The new half dwarf was named Durain ll, and he was the great-grandfather to my betrothal... The line followed the same order. Durain married a dwarf and had Haldain. Haldain married a dwarf and had Adain. Adain, my father's brother in battle, married a human named Asteer, and their daughter became my betrothed. We called her Awla, but that wasn't her permanent name.” Thorin paused abruptly in his explanation and took a moment to _breathe_. He’d thought saying the name aloud would be easier than it turned out to be, and was caught by surprise at the tingling cold in his chest at hearing the name for the first time in years.

“Didn't have a 'permanent' name?" Bilbo half sputtered then. He looked at the other dwarves to see if that was a common occurrence for them to just grow up _without a name_. Judging off their confused looks, it wasn’t. The king nodded a yes while he centered himself once more.

"Strange as it may seem, their forefathers created this practice to protect their line. They were strong dwarves, hearty, and they didn’t tire easily, they were the ones you wanted at the front of a battle. Adain’s forefathers created the tradition that the child had to be able to successfully wield ax, sword, and a third weapon of their choosing before he or she could have a name, because a name meant you could be picked for war. His daughter’s temporary name was Awla, which stood for 'first of all’ since she was the first born.” Thorin explained, and the second time he said the name it was easier. The dwarves hummed in pleasant acknowledgment to the tradition, and Bilbo nodded like he accepted it.

“When I met her when she was sixteen, had mastered the sword, and was only just getting the hang of axes." Thorin began and then was promptly cut off by multiple voices.

"Sixteen!" All but Dwalin and Balin shouted, for that was the age of someone _just barely_ a stripling. Thorin frowned at their explosion, and Balin shook his head with a tiny smile. The dwarf raised a hand for silence as they began to make a louder rumble, and only continued when they fell silent.

"Yes, but as Balin said, she was my closest friend, and _only_ that,” Thorin explained, quick to shoot down any dangerous thoughts that could pervade the dwarves mind. Balin was right, his relationship with his One was entirely platonic while they were both so young, and it was only in his dreams of the future did their handholds and smiles mean more than not losing each other in the markets of Dale. “The rules of my betrothal changed as well, to when she was of age instead of me, but I didn’t much care for the completion of the marriage contract that was twenty-four years into the future, instead of seventeen. I asked for a betrothal to ensure the Durin line would continue, and now that I had it I didn’t have to care about it.”

Thorin faintly waved his hand in the air to signify his lack of care, and then waited to see if anyone was going to say something again before he continued. He didn’t like being interrupted, and would rather answer questions now than later when he was in the middle of his explanation (again). When he was greeted with silence Thorin started back up where he’d originally planned too.

“Before I met her I had only heard of her and her family, but I had never seen any of them. I knew all the rumors about her though, so many of them you would never know what was real or false until you met her. I’d heard she was as tall as an elf, as slow as a sloth, that her hair changed between red and blonde, that she was so light she floated, and just about every other thing you can expect from word of mouth stories... Meeting her was by mere chance. The weight of choosing a betrothal was getting heavier every day, and I went to a recently created mineshaft to escape the weight for a while. I went deep into the tunnel, sat on a dusty chair, and tried to ignore everything." Thorin continued, and he felt his cheeks pinch up a bit as the memory played through his head. The Company watched as a soft smile played along the king’s lips, possibly the softest any of them had seen. It didn't last long though, Thorin shook his head to get rid of the memory and brought himself back to the present.

"She didn't say anything when she found me. She probably knew I just needed someone to be there. She put her hands on my shoulders so I knew she was there, and then she just... hugged me. It didn’t occur to me until afterward that I should have fought back. I was in an empty mineshaft, supposedly alone, and out of nowhere hands touched me, but that's just a what if," Thorin waved his hand in a dismissive gesture -he hadn't been so suspicious when he was young- before continuing. "When I remembered myself I looked at the person who so willingly comforted me. The first thing I noticed was her odd, silver-grey eyes that, had they been any lighter, I would have called blind. Her hair was next, a vibrant shade of red that went all the way down her back in a single braid. Lastly, I noticed her size. She was hellishly short, maybe four feet max. She looked barely early teen, but she assured me she was sixteen and just small. After we traded names, and she stopped freaking out over who I was and I stopped gapping at what she was, we spent the rest of our time in the mineshaft talking, and I took her home when she yawned."

Thorin paused to make sure no one had a question or comment to make before he started on the next chapter of his story. He watched as pure curiosity oozed from the dwarves, Gandalf, and Bilbo, while Ayth oozed curiosity and wonderment. The wonder surprised him more than anything else about this entire situation. What did she have to wonder about? That he listened to her? That he was talking? That maybe made some sense. He’d always been the one to ask questions, never answer them, and this was the most he’d spoken in a long time.

"Thorin? What happens next?" Fili asked, which snapped Thorin out of the short reverie. He blinked and looked away from the wonder-struck half-dwarf, and back to the rest of his company.

"Ah yes. We went to Dale, where her home was. I didn’t make it past the third knock on the front door before it was yanked open and a big, red-bearded dwarf _glared_ at me. I thought he was going to yell at me like maybe he knew I had been the one with his daughter all day. The second he recognized me though he apologized for his angry entrance. I asked why he was so angry on reaction, and he said his daughter had disappeared in Erebor. He was immensely relieved when I presented her, hiding behind me because she knew her father would be angry. He let us in without a second word, and Asteer took her daughter from me." Thorin recounted easily and quickly.

"Awla was grounded for the heart attacks she’d given both of her parents, which she took in sliding because that was apparently something she did often. With the daughter home and the punishment tolled, the parents relaxed and I asked the questions I’d always wondered. I learned what I told all of you, that populating between a dwarf and a human, when successful, bred incredible results, but they were usually weak in their first twenty years. Add on that Awla had been born a month prematurely and had barely survived it, she was even smaller than normal. She was getting bigger quicker as time went though. She had her father's red hair, her mother's grey eyes, her father's strength, and her mother's heart. She didn't really have close friends because of her heritage, but she filled her time in other ways, like frequently scaring her parents. I learned early on in our friendship that she was _very_ sneaky, that she had mastered swords and was working on axes, and that she could have a conversation with practically anyone if she wanted too. She reminded me of who I expected to find when I asked my father for a betrothal contract, but I was never going to ask. Her family was first born descendants of the Firebeard clan, and Adain was two family member's deaths away from becoming king of them, being eldest living in his line if his cousin and brother died early without children. I worried that Adain would think I wanted more power and would keep his daughter away from me if I asked, so I never did." Thorin continued to explain, more comfortable now in his role as the teller. The company listened to him with an array of expressions now: Curiosity, amusement, and apprehension, but they were all clearly listening. He glanced at Ayth quickly to see if he was still doing alright, and she gave a quick smile.

"As it turns out, I didn't have to ask. We sought each other out as often as we could, and it became clear to Adain and my father that it wasn’t a one-day coincidence. Asteer invited dad and me over for dinner several weeks later, and as we were getting ready to leave their place, Adain formally asked my dad for a betrothal contract. He’d wanted to ask since I started searching for one, but he was viciously protective of his daughter and wanted to know I would do right by her before he said anything. He was sure of his askance when he saw that I cared to listen and understand his family rather than the rumors that surrounded them, and that I took joy and gave joy with his daughter. My father was... surprised, to say the least. He didn’t say anything until he saw my reaction, determined to make me happy even while I did my duty as an heir. I nodded yes, and that was it. My search was over, and I was happy with the outcome of it." He said. The same soft smile from before adorned his face again, and the others knew thing got better from there.

"From that day I needn't worry, and enjoyed my time as a stripling. Every chance we got, when my duties were done and Awla was finished training, we got together. We would sneak around Dale and Erebor and get into forbidden places, or I’d help her train her ax skills, or we’d sit wherever we fancied and just talk for hours, or we’d hide away deep in Erebor and watch the gems in the ceiling shine like stars, and we would make constellations out of them. A weight was lifted from me, and I lived as close as I could get to being any other dwarf... An especially favorite memory was her seventeenth birthday. So merry was it, with all the food and laughter. It was a small party, only Adain and his older brother Urain, Asteer and her parents, the birthday girl, and I. The day was sunny and warm, and she just simply shined." Thorin murmured with gentle happiness, and his smile grew at the memory.

"Urain got her an elven sword, light as a feather and sharp as a whip; Her grandparents gave her books of the world beyond, where she may one day visit; Her father gave her an elf made belt big enough to fit Urain’s present, and Asteer made beads for her hair. I gave her a small circlet made of silver with sapphires and rubies encrusted into it, the colors of our houses. And in return, after she begged me to help, she showed how close she was to mastering the ax. Her parents, elated at her progress, let her pick what her name started with, to encourage her to continue her practice. She chose the letter ‘A’, because both her parents’ names started with that letter." Thorin's gentle happiness turned sad, and his lips curled slightly in the beginnings of a snarl. The beginning of the end of when he had his One.

"The days continued to pass slowly, but brightly. My own birthday passed and marked me as twenty-four. Both kingdoms celebrated it, and I was given weapons and armor, parties and praises. Little A -as I had started calling her- gave me something sweeter than praises, smaller than ornate daggers, something her family helped her make." Thorin said steadily. He raised his hand to the dimming firelight, and all leaned forward to see it. Ayth put in another firewood, and once the flames renewed, it showed on Thorin's middle finger a thin thread of red encased in silver.

"A ring with ruby wrapped around silver, made to fit my fingers alone. Little A walked through the large crowds of dwarves and humans and up the steps to my seat. In her nervousness, she pulled my hand to her harder than I think she meant to, and slipped a ring onto my finger. Grey engravings appeared on the silver, a little strange as they sounded half complete. 'For as long as you want’ it said. I figured then, and still guess to this day, that there was going to be a second piece to her work, but I never got to see... She made the gift with her father, though her uncle had been the one to take it to the elves nearby to have the engravings enchanted in... This ring is the only thing left of her I have now..." Thorin paused for only a moment to stare at the ring, wishing silently once more for the words to shine. They didn’t, as they never had, and Thorin felt a familiar sting of disappointment.

“The words faded from the ring in the following months after Smaug attacked and we wandered Middle Earth. I always wondered if the words were somehow connected to her life force and faded when she passed, but no one could create such a thing, no elf nor wizard. Why they disappeared and if there is a way to get them back is still a mystery.” He finished quickly as brought his hand back to his side. Thorin's sad look turned fierce with rage, and then into a hollow, bone-deep misery. The dwarves were baffled at the sudden change of obvious emotions. Never had any -besides Balin and Dwalin- seen him look so angry and sad, not singularly or one after the other.

Thorin picked himself up internally. He could do this, he could finish this one story. He’d suffered this pain for years and had learned to work with and through it, he could finish the story. The life and death of his One. Both his happiest memories and saddest moments.

"The day Smaug appeared, we were on the training grounds inside Erebor, practicing her ax skills. In the time I had known her she had grown and looked more her age: a short, seventeen-year-old human. We were practicing with wooden axes, and she came at me with a low swing. She caught the inner heel of my ax with hers and brought it up and over my head until I was on my back. I went to praise her... but a noise of snapping trees and a great wind came from inside the mountain and stopped our fun. I told her to stay until I found out what it was..." Thorin stopped abruptly, and his tall stature wobbled a bit as his knees felt the urge to give. Only Bilbo moved fast enough to keep him from falling to the ground, which only helped a little seeing as he was a foot and some inches shorter than the leader.

"Thorin!" Multiple voices shouted as their leader's grief and guilt attacked him with vengeance, and he dropped his full weight onto the tiny hobbit. Another body came into view not a second later, and the small thing picked Thorin up as if he was a backpack. She pressed him into the wall with Bilbo, and together they kept Thorin up as he worked through the cold that now emanated from him physically, the hollowness all dwarves felt when they lost that which they loved. Silence rang for few moments as nobody moved, then Ayth leaned up towards Thorin stiffly until they were almost cheek to cheek, and whispered low enough so only he could hear.

"You’re doing great, but if you need to take a break from talking of such grief, we will understand." She whispered quietly. Bilbo adjusted himself beside her and put more weight against Thorin’s ribs, and the dwarf held himself up a little easier.

“I want to get to the end of the story.” He answered, his words muffled into her shoulder while his neck was unable to keep his head up. Before he had wanted to try opening up just to dip his toe into the pool Ayth had said was fine to swim in. Now, he wanted to finish it as proof he was able to go on, and that no matter his emotional pain, he would stay standing for those who followed him.

“Don’t push yourself beyond what you can handle. You simply opening yourself up to the same realities that others experience is enough for your people to relax and enjoy themselves around you. Which is good, though this isn't exactly how I'd do it.” She whispered, attempting to lighten his mood. This was likely her fault. She wouldn’t have been so forward with her advice if she’d known _this_ would be the first thing Thorin would talk about. Trust the brooding dwarf king to pick the toughest topic in the world to share with his companions as a _starter story_.

Thorin relaxed a smidge at her words, and successfully raised his head, which was more than Ayth expected. The dwarf had almost fallen from grief and now he looked rather calm and steady. He stood up on his own feet once more, and the two who helped took the necessary steps back to be considered proper. Ayth ducked her head in a motion of respect, and Bilbo bounced away back to the Durin brothers.

“Come, let us hear the rest of your story, though I advise you to sit for the remainder of it," Ayth said easily, like the moment hadn’t happened, and she sat down next to Fili and Kili once again. Thorin returned to his standing position, but after a moment he listened to Ayth and sat.

"I am better. Thank you Mister Bilbo, Ayth." He said quietly. Both nodded in recognition, but neither said anything. Thorin centered himself once more before he spoke, and he focused on his breathing. It was a story, his story. If he’d been able to live it and survive, he can recount it.

"Now then... I told Awla to remain safe while I found out what was happening, and then I ran. I ran to the guard tower to see what it was, which was where I saw Smaug for the first time, over in Dale. Balin came and told me about my missing grandfather not too shortly after, and I knew where exactly he would be; in the gold room trying to save his jewels. I had to make a split second decision between Thror and Little A... and I picked Thror. He would be deeper in the mountain and farther from safety, and Smaug would head there before anywhere else. I proved myself right as I got to him at the gold room doors just before Smaug crashed in and scattered everything, and I dragged him to the entrance outside Erebor where our family waited for us. I gave him to my father and brother and made to go back in and get Little A, but dad wrapped his arms around me to hold me back before I could go... Then fire blew out from inside Erebor-" Thorin paused again. He sat through the new wave of grief with only the slightest of shakes in his shoulders, and he was glad he listened to Ayth's advice. The company waited patiently, mostly because they couldn’t decide if they should help him with his grief or stop him from going any further. Even Thorin's nephews were stumped, and they know their uncle better than Gandalf, who was equally as stumped by this turn of events. Though he'd never admit it.

"Seconds later, the entrance of Erebor collapsed... I-... I didn’t know... I didn’t know the dreams I had- or how much I had envisioned of our future... I didn’t know what it would feel like when she was torn from me- just so _easily_... I had dreams ripped apart as I watched the doors crumble, and all that I had imagined left me like a ghost of what-if... I was carried from entrance Erebor by my father, and it was only as we walked did I remembered Adain and Asteer. I searched for them among our people but only came across a grieving Urain. He said Adain had been incinerated by Smaug in Erebor, and he last saw Asteer walking to Dale, but knew nothing beyond that. He knew not of his niece's whereabouts, and only hoped she made it and he could find her again... I hadn't the heart to tell him... How she hopefully hadn't had the chance to scream- probably didn't even see what ended her-" Thorin finished there, abruptly, because that was it. The story of his One. Thorin felt strangely distant now. No misery or guilt that he was used too, only a cold ache in his chest.

There was a pregnant silence for a while after his story, and all their eyes were downcast. They knew going into this recounting of memories that there was no happy ending, but to _know_ what truly happened compared to what any of them had imagined... A story that started out so hopeful and ready for life, burned away by a fire breathing dragon without mercy. All it took was a split second decision, one life over another, and Thorin had to live with the grief and misery at the outcome of his decision for the rest of his life.

"Did you ever find Asteer?" Kili asked eventually. Thorin looked up at him curiously, only to shake his head.

"I looked and asked around as I traveled, but I never found her. It doesn’t matter now anyway. She was thirty-six when I met her in Erebor, and she was human. She’s long gone." Thorin answered his nephew. A stricken look crossed Ayth’s expression then, and she ducked her head further down while she mumbled something too low for any of them to hear. All turned to her, and Thorin leaned forward to see her better in the firelight.

"What?" Fili asked from right beside her. Ayth looked up, at Thorin, and he saw the pain in her eyes. It startled him.

"Asteer died a little under a century ago with her sister, at the _old_ age of a ninety-four." The half-human said louder, clearly uncomfortable and embarrassed by her statement. Thorin blinked owlishly at her with the others for a long time as _that_ sunk in.

"You knew her and you didn't tell me?" Thorin asked waspishly. Ayth raised her hands up as a sign of peace as she scrambled to explain.

"I didn't know you knew Asteer until tonight! When you said her name I wanted to say something but you were telling a story so I waited until you finished!" She answered in a whoosh, rushed to explain. Thorin’s features twitched up and down as he gazed at her unblinkingly, and Ayth looked genuinely sorry with how she kept her eyes ducked and hands up.

"How did you know her?" Thorin asked finally, much more subdued but still clearly peeved. Ayth sighed in relief that he listened, and she leaned against the wall behind her. She stared at the dwarf king for a long moment, and then she looked around at the others.

"If you don't remember that morning two weeks ago I said my mom died with her sister under a century ago. Well, Asteer died under a century ago with her sister." She answered softly. Realization dawned the faces of all the men instantly, but it was Balin who said it first.

"Asteer was your aunt." He exclaimed. The others nodded with his words, and Ayth rolled her eyes at how surprised he sounded when he said it. She looked back over at Thorin, who was looking at her with something akin to surprise, and she cracked a half smile at him.

"Since the cat’s out of the bag for both of us now, I guess it’s nice to formally meet you. Asteer would never say anyone’s name that she knew from Erebor, but she once said she wished you luck.” Ayth said quietly, repeating the deceased woman’s words one hundred and thirty years later, except now there was a _name_ attached to them. Thorin’s eyes softened around the edges at her words, and he sighed.

“Thank you,” Thorin replied. Ayth took note of his quiet demeanor and figured she’d tormented him enough tonight with dredging up old memories. She stood up, went over to Thorin, and rested her hand on his shoulder in simple comfort. He gave her a brief smile to show his thanks even while down, and knew she understood when she squeezed his shoulder.

“Despite the grievances, you did a good job opening up, Thorin Oakenshield. Give it a day or so max, you’ll see the change.” She murmured, her words only meant for him. Thorin glanced up at her once more, and then at the dwarves who had mixed expressions across all of their faces. Even if nothing else changed, Thorin himself felt different. Tonight’s experience on top of his conversations with multiple dwarves over the last week has given him a new perspective.

The half dwarf slipped off to her bed beside Gandalf and fell into it with a thud. She pulled a dagger from inside her coat, twirled it in her hand for a moment as she pulled something out of her pocket, and dug into it with the dagger. Thorin could have sworn he saw a flash of blood in the firelight, but she turned over to her front to keep whatever it was from getting in her bedroll. He watched her a few seconds longer to try and guess what she was doing, but when Ayth didn’t let out a noise of pain and Gandalf didn’t react, he decided to let her be. If she wanted to show it to them she would do it when she’s ready. Just as he was opening up to the company, she was telling more about herself beyond jokes.

Thorin turned to face his men once more. They looked at him with more caution than ever before, but he could already see the thing Ayth talked about. They looked open, some even smiled at him, and the few that were usually a bit skittish around him looked more at ease. Thorin smiled back at all of them gently, then retired to his bed without another word, emotionally and mentally exhausted after everything that happened. The others took that as a signal and went back to what they were doing before the story of their leader’s past. Fili, Kili, and Bilbo went back to trading stories, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bombur, Dwalin, Nori, Ori, Dori, and Balin went back to sleeping, and Gandalf and Bofur -who was still wide awake- went back to making rings with their pipes. The only things that were different from before were Ayth, who lay beside Gandalf and dug into a red gem until she was tired enough to fall asleep, and Kili and Fili, who moved their bedrolls to sleep closer to Thorin.


	4. Stoneheads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing and posting this chapter is a little hard for me since it's the first one that really changes the story around, but I still hope all of you enjoy it.

The abandoned ruins of a once great watchtower were now inhabited by orcs who used its high altitude and location to watch the Great East Road for all forms of traffic and rumors. The chief general that led this group was a gundabad orc: the tallest of his kind, the palest of them all, and the most ruthless, Azog. His use of the location was for only one purpose, though it served many. He was sworn to annihilate a line of dwarves, the Durinsons, and the Weathertop Watchtower was the best lookout spot.

It was this place that let Azog know that Thorin Oakenshield had finally come out of his mountain. What little he could get out the dwarves they found didn’t say much else than that, except that he traveled east, him and whoever joined him. It was all Azog needed to send out scouts to find the dwarf and his numbers and then report back to him. His wait was several months long, until spring was nearly over, before one of his scouts finally returned with the words he waited for.

"Master, we found Thorin Oakenshield." The orc scout told, loud and confidently. His red eyes glowed with anticipation for the fruit his words would give as he faced his Master: The Defiler, the Pale Orc who, even while crippled, was far fiercer than most others of his kind. When his arm was removed he stuck a hook through his flesh to make it his new hand!

The Defiler turned to face the scouts with a fierce smile across his torn up mouth. Finally, Thorin Oakenshield had been found. After a hundred years of waiting for him to come out of his home, Azog’s men had found the dwarf. He could put his plans into action now and end the line of Durin once and for all.

There was something else in the orcs before him though. It smelled stale and of sweat. It smelled like fear.

"What else?" He asked.

"The Unforgiver is with them. We were lucky none saw it glow." The orc spilled willingly, forgoing the fact that the reason they were lucky was that one of them had made a noise once the weapon was noticed, which caught the dwarves attention but hadn’t alarmed them into searching.

"The Unforgiver... Did you see her? The one that wields it?" The Pale Orc asked sharply. Azog had met many orcs that told the story of a half dwarf who killed any of them she crossed paths with, with the blade they feared. He knew why she could do it so easily too, from the stories of his brethren that lived near to her old home, where orc killing was the norm.

"Yes. She’s with them." The scout answered him, and oh, what a turn in events. Thorin Oakenshield and the half breed were in the same place. That was two birds with one stone.

New ideas for his plans began to run through his head, and a vicious smile erupted across Azog the Defiler’s face, stretching his scars and baring all his teeth to show. The orcs around him suppressed shivers.

"Follow them. Don’t lose sight of either of them! I have someone to visit. Go!"

* * *

 

The dwarves woke to dawn peeking her head over the horizon’s edge and into their alcove. They rose to find a half dwarf humming a nameless tune as she combed her fingers through her coat’s fur in her lap. Her weapons, which there was a lot of, rested around her. Her longsword was on one side of her while her short sword was on the other. Dwarves that stopped long enough to look at her could see twenty small daggers lined up next to her short sword, all varied in glints of silver metal, and no two of them looked the same.

"How many weapons do you carry?" Bofur asked her incredulously as he picked up a dagger that closest resembles dwarven origins. Ayth glanced over her shoulder at him and promptly stopped humming. She stared at the dwarf who spun one of her daggers around carefully, like he couldn't quite get a handle on how it moved. She then looked around him at the almost morose atmosphere that made up the company that morning, and she smiled as an idea crossed her mind. She glanced at Thorin cautiously, _almost_ deciding not to do her idea based on his principle of the word ‘fun’, but promptly decided to Mordor with it. If he didn’t like it he could tell her so.

Ayth laid her coat down beside her and picked up her long sword. She tossed it at Bofur without a word or warning, and he dropped the dagger to catch it. The others stop when they heard the dagger land on the ground and they turned to watch the interaction.

"One." She said simply as she picked up her short sword. She chucked it at Fili, the second closest to her as he spied on her arsenal, who dropped his bag to catch it. "Two."

She picked up the dagger Bofur dropped and took two more between her fingers as she stood up. She threw them at Kili, the closest one to the alcove wall, and each dagger flew one after the other at the youngest dwarf. He managed to dodge the first one, catch the second one, but the third one stuck his shirt to the wall by his shoulder sleeve. She numbered, "Five."

Ayth had the attention of the company now, and she gave Thorin a tentative smile as if silently asking if this was ok. He looked on curiously, and he wasn’t doing anything to stop her, so she took that as her go to continue. She repeated the action, this time aiming three at Dwalin. The battle-hardened and skilled dwarf took the challenge head on and used his axes, affectionately named Grasper and Keeper, to keep them away. They landed in front of him, one on top of the other, and Dwalin was smiling a bit when he finished. Ayth counted, "Eight."

She stood to her tallest and looked over the entire company. Fili held her short sword, Bofur her long, two of her daggers were on the ground before a stuck Kili trying valiantly to get out, and Dwalin twirled her daggers in his big hands. The rest watched on with a mix of amusement and concern. Ayth picked up eight daggers, which left six on the ground. With practiced precision, she threw one dagger towards Ori, Nori, Dori, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Balin, and Bilbo. The dwarves caught theirs or ducked to miss them, but Bilbo didn't know how to handle a sharp projectile heading his way and squealed as she threw it at him. He thudded next to Kili, who was still trying to get his out. Kili looked at Bilbo where he oofed, and was immediately reduced to trying not to laugh at the hobbit pinned to the wall. His shirt was caught by the shoulder, and Bilbo looked petrified where he hung half a foot from the ground. He didn’t even know  _why_ he was so high up.

"Sixteen." She clicked. She looked at the last three people in their group she hadn’t targeted yet. An expectant Bombur, an amused Gandalf, and a still curious Thorin.

She crouched low to the ground and picked up the last six daggers, three in each hand, and all three men stiffened and waited for her move. She looked between them as if sizing them up, and then threw with surety only practice could achieve. She spun her whole body in a circle to throw three at Gandalf and three and Bombur. Gandalf took a large step out of the way and let the daggers dig themselves into the wall; Bombur gasped at the three coming his way and dropped as low as his body would allow, and the lowest dagger was inches from his back.

Ayth did not stop there. She used the same body motion to pull the last two daggers hidden in her boots, and thrust them at Thorin. Gandalf, Thorin, Fili, Dwalin, and Nori had been the only ones to notice them in the two weeks, so everyone else gaped as they were thrusted at the dwarf king.

Thorin’s already raised ax was there to divert the two daggers even before she threw them. He deflected one seamlessly, and used his body motion the move made to spin away from the second dagger, which came after its twin by a split second.

"And twenty-four. Does that answer your question, Bofur?" The half-dwarf asked with a little smile. Bofur smiled back at her as he tossed her sword back to her. She grabbed it by its strap and swung it over to rest on her back in the same motion.

"Aye. That answered my question." He answered jovially. Ayth nodded once, and her job was done for now: to make the company smile after last nights intense ending.

Fili followed Bofur example by tossing the short sword back to its owner before going to help the (still) stuck Kili and Bilbo. Ayth put the short sword back on her belt where it usually was while she started walking around to pick up her twenty-two daggers from the dwarves. Dwalin gave her a wicked smile and asked her to duel him soon when she walked over, to which Ayth nodded in agreement with her own grin, and tucked the daggers back in her coat when Dwalin handed them over.

Balin, Nori, Dori, Gloin, and Oin thanked her for the show, and Bifur made a comment to her in Khuzdul. The others got a surprise when she replied in the same language, which made Bifur smile. His closest kin saw the look in his eye as he learned she spoke his language and knew she’d be having an earful soon. Ayth walked past a chuckling Gandalf to yank out the daggers embedded in the stone wall behind him without much of a problem, and then glanced at Fili, who was struggling with Kili to get the daggers out, next to Bilbo, who looked nervous as they struggled. She passed them, took her three daggers from a chuckling Bombur, and smiled sheepishly at Thorin when he handed his two over. Unlike the other daggers in her collection, these two were the same in every way, and also quite possibly the smallest as well, which was probably why they were in her boots instead of her long coat.

"You’re skilled at daggers," Thorin commented as he watched her tuck them away on the outside of her boots, which she then half covered by her pant legs once more. Ayth stood back up with a proud smile.

"Thank you." She responded cheerily. She turned around to help the dwarf brothers and Bilbo without much else, but paused when she remembered her thoughts before this. "And, thanks for letting me do that. I half expected you to lash out at me."

Thorin stared at her for a moment before he realized she was hinting at the fact that he didn’t usually allow such play. Had it happened before last night he probably would have stopped her by the first dagger on principle alone. He’d woken up with a new, open kind of comfort though. One that made him nod his head towards the others, and every one of them that caught it smiled back without the surprised expression he’d seen before. There was a new kind of respect that he could see in their eyes, one that Ayth had stoutly stood by, one that encouraged him to go easy on the dwarves in his command. So when he saw Ayth begin her little show with the same smile she made before she told a joke, he let it happen.

"It was just a little fun," Thorin answered, and graced her with half a smile. She smiled back, then turned to walk over to the stuck boys.

"You're doing it all wrong. Here." She said as she got closer to them. Fili huffed in aggravation and pulled away to watch Ayth do what he couldn’t. She took hold of the stubborn daggers with complete confidence and pulled them straight out of the rock wall without even a grunt. Bilbo fell with a gasp, genuinely not expecting her to be able to do it. Kili and Fili just gaped at her.

"But, but..." Kili bumbled out, and pointed a finger at the wall. _But how_?

"Silly dwarves, pull out and up, not just out." Was her easy reply to his unfinished question. The group heard several dwarves laugh, and te brothers ducked their heads and went back to what they were doing before, packing their things. Bilbo shrugged off the dust from the wall, not noticing the chuckling dwarves as he followed Ayth.

“Thank you for releasing me. I was worried you were going to have to cut my clothes.” He said as he followed her over the pony that was unofficially theirs. Bilbo was getting the hang of riding now, but he wasn’t comfortable enough to do it alone yet, and since Ayth never questioned it, he never explained it.

“It was my pleasure. Nothing but a little fun in the morning. Now,” Ayth responded, and then she tossed him an apple, which he took all too happily. “This time eat it. Gandalf mentioned something about you feeding our pony your apple.”

Bilbo blushed at getting caught, and took a bite out of the apple to placate the weapon covered half human. Ayth glanced around the company to see how far along they were, and didn’t miss the nod from Thorin to get Bilbo up. Bilbo saw it too, and his nose crinkled a smidge. It really was just expected now that the two of them would share a pony.

Bilbo half pulled himself up onto Myrtle while Ayth lifted him, and he held onto the reins as he waited for her to jump up behind him. Myrtle shook her head, annoyed at Bilbo for squeezing her not too lightly with his feet, and the hobbit reacted by relaxing his legs. Yeah, he was getting the hang of it. Slowly.

“I noticed how late you stayed up last night with Fili and Kili. If you want you can go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we stop again.” Ayth murmured from behind Bilbo’s head. She noticed goosebumps prickle his neck from the chill air, and instinctively wrapped her coat around him to keep him warm. Bilbo didn’t necessarily need it, but he was thankful all the same. He finished his apple before Ayth helpfully tossed it off into the grass, and then he settled down to sleep once more.

The area they traveled for the next two weeks was pure prairie lands. They marched along the East Road towards the Misty Mountains, and some of the older dwarves would point at random landmarks with a story to tell. It was here Bilbo began to ride his own pony, as the grounds weren’t as bumpy as the walk through the forest and hills, and he could have a dwarf on either side of him to keep him from tipping. Without Bilbo there to keep an eye on, Ayth’s stories came with more flourish as she moved her arms about. Her stories also became more focal, since she could now use landmarks and directions to point to places she’s been in the surrounding plains.

Come evenings when they all settled in for the night Ayth held true to Dwalin about sparring him. It didn’t take long for the company to realize Gandalf was right about Ayth’s fighting ability, and that the weapons across her body weren’t just for show. That wasn’t to say Ayth didn’t get her rump handed to her, just that Dwalin was also put on his behind a few times.

It started off with their primaries. Dwalin’s twin axes and knuckle dusters and Ayth’s short and long sword duo. They eventually broke down to single weapons: long sword against an ax, short sword against a warhammer, dagger against dagger, fist against fist. Eventually, the sight made a few others curious about going toe to toe with her. Nori got to Ayth one evening before Dwalin could and offered to spar with daggers, and _that_ had been a spectacle of confusing maneuvering and a few cuts across both of them. Nori’s bold approach opened the doors for Bifur to as well, and he brought his stabbing weapon (a boar spear) to fight against hacking and slicing weapons. The night Dwalin, Ayth, and Bifur all sparred together would go down as a terrifying experience, and Gandalf forbade the three of them from fighting each other at the same time ever again. Which, admittedly, was probably for the best. Oin almost ran out of antibiotic ointment that night, and the three were sent on herb searches the next day.

The decision to send them medicinal herb hunting turned out to be a good one as they learned Ayth knew herbs and foods in the wild. Her response to their surprise was to remind them she had been a wanderer in the lands of Middle Earth for the last hundred years, so  _of course,_ she would know food from poison from medicinal herbs.

“We stop here! Oin, Gloin, get a fire going.” Thorin ordered in the early June dusk. Ayth, who had been dozing since the sun reached high west, shook from her half-sleep on the pony. She breathed deeply through her nose to get her lungs and brain going again, was immediately assaulted with the odd smell of pipe smoke and flowers, and something shivered against her.

She popped into reality when something giggled, and jerked her head away from whatever she had rested on. She looked down at a sleeping Bilbo, whose head was lulled into her coat. Where her slumped head had been seconds ago was on his shoulder, and her nose tickled as the breeze passed by her. She blinked and watched the blond halfling settle down against her shoulder again. She faintly wondered why he wasn't on his pony, and then remembered the fall he took the day before when he tried to get off his pony. Ayth shook her head at the sleeping hobbit. A month on the road and he still can't settle on a pony right. She begged to Valar she never saw a fight with him in it. She mused about the panic she’d have if he ever did get into a fight, and only woke from her musings when Gandalf left the campsite muttering to himself.

Ayth dropped down from the pony first and put Bilbo half over her shoulder. She looked around for a landmark to tell her their location and noted a forest and an abandoned, burned shack. They’d passed Last Bridge about a day ago, so this must be the beginnings of Trollshaws. A... four day's travel to Imladris? Ayth felt like that might be wrong.

When she got near the company she saw Oin and Gloin were already on the fire, Bombur was setting out pots and food to start cooking, and Thorin was setting out orders so that each dwarf was working on something; Dwalin and Balin were on resource check, Ori and Dori were getting some places to sit, Nori and Bifur was sent out to find a possible water source, Fili and Kili were given pony duty, and Ayth and Bofur were sent to find herbs in the area around them.

Ayth set Bilbo down by Bombur to wake next she wanted and walked into the forest nearby with Bofur to look for exactly what was ordered. The pair went through the area quietly in the last visible light they had, where they picked up at few chickweeds and parsley that they could safely identify. Ayth was checking out some of what she thought could be queen’s lace when Bofur called out to her.

“What are these berries?” He asked. Ayth looked away from the speckles of white flowers and over to the plant Bofur was leaning over and looking at. She saw spaced out black little berries in green leaves and could safely identify  _that_ easily. She might have trouble discerning some herbs, but a poisonous berry is easy.

“Belladonna. It’s poisonous enough to kill you. I wouldn’t recommend touching them.” She answered. Bofur turned wide eyes over at her, and she leveled him with a dull look. They'd been companions long enough that Ayth knew when Bofur did something bad, and  _that_ was the look he gave when he did something bad. Bofur opened his palms where he already held a few berries, and he smiled sheepishly.

“You mean this is bad?” He asked, half humorous. Ayth sighed heavily, stood up, and walked over to him with the few plants she’d been able to find. She looked down at his hand, and then back at him.

“If you ingest them or have a cut on your hand, definitely,” She answered jovially and Bofur promptly turned his hand over and dropped the berries. “Go wash your hands to make sure none of the juice got on you before you lick your fingers.”

“Are you good to look for herbs on your own?” Bofur asked before he left. Ayth nodded with a little smile, and the dimpled dwarf excused himself to wash his hands with clean water.

Thorin watched the company members farthest from the campsite that he could see, Bofur and Ayth, to make sure nothing would happen to them in the multiple seconds it would take for anyone to react. Gandalf’s abrupt disappearance wasn’t too concerning for him, but it had set him on edge enough that he was keeping a closer eye on everyone. The two were currently talking over a plant Bofur must have found, and whatever it was had Bofur marching up to their campsite with a pale face after Ayth clearly shooed him off. He held his hands from his body like they were diseased, and when he went over to his brother Bombur, they poured water and soap into them.

“Bofur,” Thorin called out once he was finished. The dwarf looked up from the towel he was drying his hands on.

“Yes, your majesty?” He asked curiously. Thorin looked at his hands, then at the forest. Ayth was still in it, working to find herbs.

“What had you running back here? Did Ayth threaten you?” He asked, and he looked at Bofur again. He meant it as a tepid joke since they had all long since learned that Ayth did  _not_ like threats. She took them seriously, and he caught her holding Nori in a headlock one evening when he threatened to break Ori’s graphite. Bofur winced a bit at Thorin’s words, and Thorin did a double take.

“Did she?” He implored. Bofur shook his head so quickly his hat flaps hit him in the face several times.

“No no! Nothing like that at all! In fact, she more likely _saved_ me than threatened.” Bofur explained. Thorin nodded for him to continue and Bofur moved quickly to clear his companion's name.

“Well, I was over by the edge of the forest looking for more herbs. I found this rather nice smelling berry and picked it up to see if it was good. I asked Ayth before I dare try anything, because she’s warned us about tricky greens, and she said it was some plant, _Belladonna_ , and it was highly poisonous. It almost always leads to _death_ ,” Bofur shook with the shivers, and looked over to the forest where Ayth was on her way back with several weeds. “She told me to go wash my hands.”

Thorin nodded along to what Bofur said till the end, and relaxed once he learned there had been no threatening. He turned his eyes to Ayth once more. She walked over to Bombur and dropped a spice or three, and he smiled widely, thanked her for the spices, and set out to follow her directions. She then proceeded to wake up Bilbo where she’d left him. Said hobbit snapped up, used to being woken up at random times now a day. Bilbo stumbled around the fire and went to help Bombur with dinner, as it was admitted by everyone that the meal tasted better when he helped. Something to do with halflings and food.

Thorin had half a mind to call Ayth over to talk for a bit, but instead, he watched her walk over to Dwalin. The tattooed dwarf only had to glance up at her before smiles appeared on both of their faces. Without any prompt Ayth set her longsword and jacket (and the daggers in her boots) off to the side and pulled out her short sword. Dwalin did the same and set Keeper, Grasper, his dagger, and knuckle duster next to her stuff, and pulled out his warhammer. Second choice weapons to start it off then.

All dwarves present watched them circle, and Ayth swung her sword around to brag about skill. They'd seen this several times before in the past two weeks, since her and Dwalin (and others) started fighting, but the way Ayth fought never ceased to interest (and confuse) them. Her fight pattern wasn't entirely dwarven, and those who had fought alongside other races knew it wasn’t entirely human or hobbitish (not that hobbits fought, thank you very much), which left very few races left: Orc or elf, and none of them knew which it was yet.

The two faced each other at a reasonable distance after they worked the kinks out of their joints, and they waited to see who would break first tonight. Ayth didn’t usually go first for the ability of defense, which Dwalin was now very familiar with. That didn’t mean he didn’t try to annoy Ayth into fighting first sometimes. It’s worked once before when he was relaxed and could stand to just stand there for fifteen minutes, and  _that_ had been a fun evening.

In the end, it was Dwalin who moved first. He charged the half dwarf, who stood in place without a twitch until he was in striking distance. Then she jumped up into a ball in mid-air by tucking her legs in, and she pressed the blunt end of her sword against her chest to hide it from her opponent. Dwalin's hammer swung under the woman that was there a moment before, and he bent his knees to roll and avoid the short sword that popped out from the ball of clothes. The dwarf skidded to a stop, and the half dwarf landed on the balls of her feet. Ayth moved then, as quick as she could, to dive behind the tall dwarf and avoid the arm he swung out to catch her. She wrapped one of her arms around his neck, bent him backward with her opposite forearm, and got him off balance until he fell to his knees. Her short sword moved into the gap between Dwalin’s body and arm, placed so sharp side was to his arm and not his ribs. It was a show that, in a real fight, Dwalin would have been pierced by the much smaller Ayth. The dwarf stopped moving with his head down in defeat, and Ayth smiled brilliantly where she stood.

"I'm not that bad." Ayth half whined, as if she was insulted by how easy that had been, and she released Dwalin from her hold. Dwalin stood up and shook his shoulders out while he walked a distance away from Ayth once more. His grip changed into something of a stronger and more deadly force on the hammer. The brother of the fighter chuckled and glanced at Thorin, who was eyeing both with curiosity.

"Dwalin or Ayth this time?" He asked Thorin, who glanced back at the old dwarf.

"I’d like to say Dwalin," Thorin began slowly as he watched Ayth block a blow from Dwalin’s warhammer with the face of her sword. "But Ayth is still pulling new moves on him as she learns how he fights. Like that hook thing she did with her long sword last week."

"I'm with Dwalin in this one. He’s learning her just as much as she’s learning him, and something just tickles me today." Bofur jibed in. The two older dwarves nodded to what the hatted dwarf said, and they all watched the Ayth charge Dwalin with her short sword. She pushed him back with the ease of pushing a boulder on wheels until Dwalin grabbed her with his free hand and tossed Ayth across the small pasture. Ayth tucked her body into a roll on landing, sprung up like a daisy, twisted in the same motion, and charged back at Dwalin.

The end of the sparring match was three to three. Ayth won the last match because of a stumble. When it was said and done the duo sat down with labored chuckles, and they were immediately checked over by Oin, Bofur, and Balin. They both had scrapes littering their arms, legs, and torsos, but nothing too dangerous. Ayth was positive the wrestling match they had fifteen minutes back, after they both lost their daggers, gave her a bruise on her shoulder after Dwalin pressed it into the dirt to hold her down (it didn't work), and Dwalin had a decent cut on his thigh after not being able to block the blow from a thrown dagger while being charged by a sword. Thankfully, on everyone’s behalf, Ayth hadn't aimed to stab him, only knock him off balance.

"It appears I was wrong," Bofur said easily, dabbing a bit of antiseptic on a small knick on the half dwarf's forearm. Balin hummed from next to Oin as he covered a scratch on the dwarf's shoulder with the same salve.

"So you are, laddie." Was what Balin said, and then he smiled at Bofur.

"That bruise reminds me,” Dwalin started as Oin growled about pointed hilts. "What rock did you use to get the silver in your hilt? It's been bugging me for weeks now."

"The rock is a goshenite stone over a melted silver coin to give it the silver feel," Ayth answered easily, and she stared at her long sword lovingly. Dwalin snorted.

“It’s not even a silver rock, it’s goshenite... Iron Hills?” He asked. She grinned.

"Bilbo, go take this out to Fili and Kili." Bombur instructed, dancing around the tempting pot of stew without taking any for himself. Bifur’s promising glare kept him from taking any yet; he didn't want to wake up to his beard filled with honey again. It took him several years to get it the length it is now, and if he died on this journey it would be with a full, _clean_ beard, thank you very much.

Bilbo sighed as he took the bowls from the round dwarf and walked into the woods to hand the royal brothers their dinner. Hopefully they didn’t pull a trick on him that evening, as they were privy to do when the half dwarf wasn’t with him.

No sooner had Bilbo left was Ayth finished. The cut she landed on Dwalin's leg needed a bit more than antiseptic to keep it clean. She walked away from the group of dwarves after a failed attempt to apologize for the trouble -Dwalin said it was  _impressive_ she managed to make him bleed- and walked out to Thorin, who was gazing at the stars. He didn't respond when she stepped on a dried leaf, nor when she stood next to him. Instead, it was a peaceful quiet around them, and Ayth fell into the same relaxed mindset as Thorin.

"That morning at Master Bilbo's house, my dwarves stopped you from answering a question, which I completely forgot about until this evening,” Thorin began, startling the tranquility around them. “How about your father?”

"He's at home with three generations of grandchildren keeping him company. He stepped down as king when I was young, and he claims he let me have it so he could spent time with the humans of our family without ruling as well, but I think it was so I had something to focus on after losing my One. When I wanted to leave home he passed the name to my eldest dwarf cousin at the time, Kath, to give me freedom. Kath is still king back home as far as I know." Ayth answered. She shuffled her feet as she talked, like what she said made her awkward.

"You were a queen? How did I not come by this before?" Thorin asked as he looked at the seemingly common half dwarf. He knew she was a _leader_ , she made that clear a few times now, but she never once mentioned being titled a _queen_.

Ayth glared at the dwarf king, noting the obvious surprise in his voice. The glare told Thorin what he needed to know, the reason why they never knew about her title until now. A female (half) dwarf was one thing, but to have a stamp of monarch attached to it... Thorin would rather not be known as royal if he could help it. The expectations put on him were drastically different than if he was just a leader. Which explained Ayth’s situation quite well.

"Yes. The Shielden name has something in it; they're descendants of the second son to one of the first dwarf kings from the beginning, the Ironfists, and blah blah blah. It’s not exactly a big deal. My father built his town in a mountain because of the lineage, but not much more than that." Ayth finished with a little wave of her hand. Thorin assessed the female now that he knew that. Little useless questions flitted across his mind, stuff like; Would she have still been a queen had she not become a nomad, Where does her town exist, and Why didn’t she want to be a leader or queen? Why _choose_ the nomadic life? It was clear through her stories that the people of her home respected her, and she could be a protector for them. Her father was no doubt old, as were most of her nieces and nephews as far as he was aware, though he didn't know how old her dwarf cousin was. She was a perfect fit for the title based off all he knew, and yet here she was with them.

"That’s-" Thorin began, but was stopped by a rustle in the bushes. Ayth and Thorin whirled around in the direction of the noise with their hands on weapons, and Ayth moved to see who made it. Thorin heard a yelp from his nephews and rushes apologies before turning away, back to the campfire. Ayth could handle his nephews, and if not, he was a shout away.

"And what, pray tell, are you three doing in the bushes?" Ayth hissed at the brothers and hobbit, only to see the hobbit wasn't exactly beside them. She looked around to find Bilbo before he could slip away from her glare and quickly found him nowhere to be seen, not even at the campsite. She furrowed her brows in confusion, then a shuffle from behind caught her attention. Realization dawned her, and she fixed a glare on two guilty looking dwarves. "Where is Bilbo?"

Ice floods the dwarves veins at the dangerous tone they'd never heard from the cheery half dwarf, which made it all the more terrifying. Fili looked up into the trees while Kili looked down at the ground to avoid a gaze as bad as their mother's, which was saying something.

"We, uh, kind of sent him to release two ponies we... Lost." Fili answered finally. Ayth’s expression turned from a scolding glare to an accusatory glare, which wasn’t any better from the first one.

"And what took the ponies?" Ayth asked in the same dangerous voice. They were quiet for an extra long second that time.

"Mountain Trolls," Kili muttered finally.

Thorin will regret walking away for a long while when Ayth shouted, "Forget being called Morons! You two have Orc brains high on Elf wine! Why would you send a three-foot halfling after _Mountain Trolls_!"

All dwarves turned to Ayth yelling at the prince brothers, who looked as ashamed as when they disappointed their uncle. Ayth hissed something quieter at the brothers and Kili muttered a reply. As Thorin walked back down to ask what had happened she pointed into the woods, and Kili followed whatever order she’d given. Thorin only had to catch Ayth's alarmed eyes to know that his nephews did something, and he wasn't going to like it.

"What's this about Mister Baggins and trolls?" The exiled king asked, and he received a rather feral growl he didn’t know the woman could make in response.

"They sent Bilbo after stone trolls." She said, falsely pleasant, and then she faced Fili. "Lead the way."

The company gathered their things quickly and followed Fili, who led them through the forest and towards an area that looked to be lit by a separate campfire altogether. Thorin didn’t forget that Ayth had said trolls as he approached the site, and he pulled out his ax just in case it was needed. Behind him, he heard his company follow suit.

"I said: Drop him!" Thorin heard from his youngest nephew up ahead. He idly wondered where such a powerful voice came from in the biggest jokester of the group, and how he could get Kili to be like that more often in his day to day life. Then he thought about why Kili said it. It was for Bilbo, their  _burglar_ hobbit who apparently got _caught_.

The company came upon the fire site and stared through the trees to access what to do before they even tried anything. There were three monstrous mountain trolls holding one _tiny_ , slimy Bilbo, and Kili stood in front of them with his sword in hand. The troll that held Bilbo didn’t hesitate to give Kili what he wanted, and he chucked the hobbit at the dwarf while the other two charged him. The youngest dwarf caught Bilbo on reaction, and was left defenseless as the trolls ran in.

With a battle cry, Thorin and his dwarves ran in as a surprise attack. The word 'Wait' stopped on Ayth's lips, and her form remained hidden in the brush as the dwarves fought. She rubbed one of her eyes tiredly, and slunk back and around the camp out of the firelight.

"Stupid, never thinking dwarves. Don't even stop to consider confusing the trolls. Just run right in will ya!" She grumbled to no one in particular. The half-dwarf pulled out several of her daggers and started walking around the camp in circles. She’d throw a dagger when a troll got too close for comfort to the dwarves, but she didn’t do much more than that. They had it covered quite well on their own. She threw a dagger over a dwarf head, under a dwarf arm, by a swinging blade. Her aim never missed, even if it wasn't what she initially aimed for, and she even managed to half blind one of the trolls when he picked up Ori. The troll roared in agony at the sharp object that was now stuck in his face, and he ripped the dagger out of his ruined socket. He threw it blindly at anything to hurt something the way it hurt him. The weapon with one owner landed tip towards a tree, but it didn't embed itself. Instead, it clunked against the bark and fell to the ground.

Ayth walked around the campsite, picked up her dagger, and muttering the number ‘ten’ under her breath. She brushed the gore of a mutilated, bloody eyeball on a tree, and used a leaf to wipe the blood off of it. That resolved her from using them in that fashion again, and chose to help Bilbo untie the ponies when she finally saw him. Just as she reached the forest edge she ducked as one of the trolls looked around,  _hopefully_ missing her. Its eyes landed on Bilbo, who managed to get the ponies out by himself, but got caught (again) in the process.

 _'Maybe not so useless_ ,' Ayth thought bitterly as she walked to a bigger bush to hopefully stay undetected, not in the mood to look at the bright side of that fact. The sound of fighting stopped while she watched the ponies runoff.

Ayth looked over the campsite to see why, and saw thirteen dwarves frozen while their hobbit was held by two of the trolls. The third wasn't there. Ayth squinted and looked around for it. She found him when a tight grasp surrounded her torso, and she hollered loudly as she was carried into the firelight.

"Put me down, air-brain!" She was brought in shouting, amusing several dwarves in the process. Even in danger, she speaks.

"Ayth?" Bilbo asked shyly, which caused her glare to land on him. The hobbit quailed under her steely gaze, and he chose to look at the leader of their band instead. His expression was just as rugged as Ayth’s, but his glare wasn’t directed at them. It was directed at the trolls holding them. That changed when Ayth started shouting colorfully in Khuzdul when the trolls took her weapons, even the daggers in her boots, leaving her bare to the cool air. A particularly colorful comment caused Bifur to laugh even in their predicament.

"Put your arms down, or theirs will come off!" The troll holding Ayth said, and promptly squeezed her to show some point. Ayth stopped mid-curse to gasp at being squeezed impossibly tight, but caught her breath just as quickly as she lost it. She didn’t continue to speak though.

Thorin promptly ignored the hobbit's whimper at the idea of having his limbs removed, and watched Ayth struggle in the troll's hold despite the threat. He noticed that she was struggling to get leverage, to hurt the troll or cause a distraction, not to get out. She tried to kick him, claw his fingers, she even tried to bite him, but his hand was wrapped too high on her body for her to get her head down far enough. She stopped squirming when she caught Thorin's eye though, and a look of realization crossed her features.

She glanced at Bilbo. Two of them, or all of them. It was very clear what the smart choice would be, but she also knew Thorin wouldn't do it. No one under his care would die if he could help it. She knew that, and yet Ayth relaxed in the troll’s hold, attempting to show Thorin it was ok to leave her and Bilbo.

"You should go Thorin." She murmured loud enough for him. “Save the rest of your company, and regain your mountain.”

Thorin did think about it for a second, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it came. Ayth may be willing to be ground into a meal to save them, but he wasn't willing to let her do it. It was his job to keep his company members, _all of them_ , safe. He would not leave behind a single one of them, no matter how bad a shape they were. He may send the rest of his company ahead while he stayed behind alone to protect, but he would never leave anyone behind while he went ahead. Besides, Ayth should know him better than to think he would leave her behind. Who else was going to keep the company on their toes with words and charm?

Thorin held Ayth’s eyes as he dug his ax and sword into the ground, daring her to try and stop him. Her eyes lit up with a certain fire as he did it, but Thorin couldn’t for the life of himself name it. As the others followed his lead Bilbo sighed in relief, but Ayth’s expression remained motionless. She dropped her head in defeat when Ori threw his slingshot to the ground, sealed in her fate to end up being food. The troll holding Ayth squeezed her again to prove a point to the dwarves, but this time she didn't do anything. He didn’t like that and squeezed her until she leaned over his hand and a dull pop resounded in the campfire. Ayth pulled back up with a tense look now, and Thorin could guess it was her side if anything else, which wasn’t too hard to fix once they got out of this mess. If it was anything else, they were in trouble.

"Get the bags, we have a meal to cook."

0o0

Bilbo and Ayth were bagged and thrown onto the pile of bound dwarves once their purpose as bait was finished. Bilbo landed on Bombur, where he then proceeded to bounce off him and land harshly on the dirt of the ground, where he saw stars. Ayth also landed on top of Bombur and proceeded to bounce off of him, but her landing was a bit softer as she landed on the shoulders and head of Kili and torso and shoulders on Thorin. The dwarves in sacks groaned in general annoyance at the added weight even though both of them were probably lighter than Ori, and Ayth groaned in pain as she curled around her torso where her side ached an almost fiery pain from the rough treatment called getting sacked. Kili quickly wiggled out from under her like a worm, and her legs fell to the earth below them, but her upper body stayed across Thorin when he kept her from falling further. She held her side until the pain receded enough she could breathe easily, and only then did she relax. Thorin watched from below her, not attempting to move as Kili did in case he hurt her more.

"How bad?" He whispered to her, mindful of the busy trolls who was shooting all of them suspicious eyes. Ayth froze at the voice and looked below herself at Thorin. She made to move off of him but stopped when his hands grabbed her through the bags once more.

"You weigh nothing, I’m fine. How bad are you?" He asked again. His eyes flickered at the trolls cooking several of their companions, and she followed his lead, watching them before she dare speak. She squirmed slightly before answering, the only real sign of her discomfort.

"Just a popped rib. I'm not too worried about it. It’s a radiating throb and not a pulsing pain so it didn't hit anything important. A little sleep, a couple of easy days, then I’ll be good." She replied casually despite the obvious distress in her voice. Thorin didn’t dwell on why she knew what hitting something important felt like as he nodded, and shuffled to get more comfortable against the rock in his back.

"Were you hurt at all?" She asked, switching the conversation around on Thorin.

"Oh no, they never hit me. Or any of us for that matter. I have some daggers to thank for that." Thorin said pleasantly. Ayth nodded at the silent thanks he gave, and settled in where she lay half against Thorin, who kept his hands on her legs to make sure she didn’t try to move again.

"Let's hurry up and cook them. Dawn's almost here and I don't fancy being turned to stone." The now one-eyed troll, William the other two called him, said. Ayth head shot up at his careless admission of his weakness, and then looked at what sky was visible around the trees. It was periwinkle in color. If she could distract the trolls for just a few minutes longer they’d turn. Ayth began to curl her legs in to stand, ignoring the protest her midsection made as she leaned forwards. Bilbo, bless the halfling, stood up before her, saving her some pain.

"What is the hobbit doing now?" Thorin grumbled from below her as Bilbo walked awkwardly towards the fire. She looked down at him and noted a scowl glowering his usually handsome face, and she suppressed a chuckle at how terrible it looked, knowing it'd hurt her in the end.

"I believe he is trying to bid us time until dawn comes. That or he's trying to get himself cooked quicker." Ayth replied cheekily. Thorin saw the intended humor she played and almost smiled at it. Instead, he just frowned further. That hobbit couldn’t even sneak by 'Air-brains' as Ayth called them, how would this be any different?

"Really? You're about to be eaten by stone trolls and you’re mentally insulting the very one who's trying to help our predicament?" Ayth asked him as his frown deepened, annoyed on the hobbit’s behalf. Thorin’s frown turned to surprise at how spot on she was, and she huffed dully. She then proceeded to grimace as it burned her side. She shuffled slightly, lying more on her good side.

"Yes, I can read your mind." She muttered. This time Thorin had to release a smile, just one.

"You can't reason with them. They’re halfwits!" Dori shouted at whatever Bilbo said.

"Halfwits! What does that make us?" Dwalin asked back. Ayth smiled with good humor, still able to find some even in their situation.

"What does that make us?" Ayth parroted thoughtfully. Thorin looked at her incredulously, and he shook his head like he was shaking her comment out of his mind. She continued, "What? I really am curious. What does it make us to be caught by halfwits, specifically Bilbo and I because we were actually _caught_."

Thorin stared at the half dwarf while he wondered whether her questions were rhetorical or not. Honestly, he didn’t know. Ayth didn’t take too many things seriously, not that there have been many reasons to be serious in the first place, and had answered rhetorical questions just to get a rise out of the others.

"-them? You're going to need a lot more than just sage-" Bilbo’s voice trickled in for a moment, and Gloin sounded insulted that Bilbo didn’t think he’d taste fine with just sage.

"I wonder what would have happened had we sent someone else to deal with the ponies." Ayth continued to muse aloud, and Thorin was still the only one that heard her. He carefully moved his body until he finally managed to get into a sitting position with Ayth leaning against him rather than on him. He moved his head around awkwardly as he tried to find a position that didn’t make Ayth’s skull choke him or put his face uncomfortably close to hers, and finally just settled on placing his head on  _top_ of hers. Only one of his hands managed to reach her hip now, so he used his now free arm to curl around her as much as he could to keep the casually wandering eyes of the trolls of her. That move didn't go unnoticed by Ayth.

"What are you doing?" She asked him bluntly. Then, as a joking afterthought, "Not that I really mind."

Thorin laughed under his breath as Ayth proceeded to curl into him, only to groan as her ribs were irritated.

"You're hurt, that's why. Though by all means get cozy and relax, not much else we can do as we wait our turn." Thorin answered. Ayth almost laughed at his words, pleased to see him trying to be good-natured about this. It was better than brooding.

"Wake me up when it's my turn on the spit." She said, and closed her eyes to feign sleep.

Thorin took a mental step back at the comment that was intended to be funny, but it just showed him how much trouble they were in. Half of his company were in bags and the other half were tied to a giant log over a fire. His companions over the spit roast were only lasting so long because the trolls had put them too high up and were constantly turning them. Their weapons were discarded away, far from them, not that it would matter because  _they were in bags_ , and they had one notably wounded person in their crew. They were so royally screwed. And where was Gandalf?

Bombur was suddenly lifted by a troll, and the action threw Ayth's mock rest off. She stopped pretending to relax and sat up abruptly. Thorin thought he heard her rib grind against something, but she didn't express any pain at that moment.

"Hey! Put him down!" She demanded, stopping the troll before he could speak. The company and trolls looked at her in surprise, and Bilbo jumped in straight away as Ayth coughed from the aggravation her move and outburst caused.

"You don't want that one,” He exclaimed, and the troll, Tom, looked at him curiously. Bilbo furrowed his brows to think of a reason that would make Tom drop Bombur. "He's got... worms in his... Tubes."

The reaction was instant, and the dwarves didn't have time to prepare for it. The troll screeched loudly and tossed Bombur back onto all of the bagged dwarves, save Balin who was a little way out from the rest. Kili, Fili, Oin, Gloin, half of Thorin, and half of Ayth took Bombur's sudden weight once more, and they all let out various pitches of groans. Ayth bit her lip to stop the sudden cry of pain as she felt her ribs move a bit more, and Thorin had to react quickly to keep her from falling to the ground as she keeled over his arm.

"In fact they all do. They're infested with parasites. It's a nasty business. I wouldn't chance it, I really wouldn't." Bilbo started up more confidently, the brilliant hobbit he was. Ayth almost felt like kissing the little three foot for his genius if she wasn’t in the process of learning to breathe again.

"Ayth?" Thorin asked once she stopped keening to the side and he didn't have to keep her from falling off. He didn't know what dropping Bombur on them did, but he wanted to make sure she was still mostly safe.

"We don't have parasites! You have parasites!" Kili shouted, incensed and insulted by what Bilbo said. The hobbit pinched his eyes closed and mouthed ‘idiot’ as Kili’s comment sparked a litany of similar responses from the rest.

"I do believe that's your nephew’s voice I heard," Ayth told Thorin stiffly, ignoring his silent concern. The dwarf king frowned at her obvious discomfort, and he had half a mind to demand she be honest right then. But right then wasn’t the right time to question her, so he grit his teeth and kicked his dwarves. They glanced up at him as silence filled the air, and then they looked back at the trolls. Oh, right, Bilbo was  _helping_ them.

"I've got parasites as big as my arm!" Oin began loudly.

"Mine are the biggest parasites- I've got _huge_ parasites!" Kili shouted.

Ayth slowly relaxed against Thorin once more as the dwarves began to work with Bilbo's story instead of fighting it. It didn’t take long for their affirmations to turn into who could one-up the rest, and she thought about how she’d one-up them if talking loudly didn’t cause pain. _She’d given it to them via their food_. The scandalous looks she would get from the dwarves would so be worth their possible spitballs in the future.

“What would you have us do then? Let them all go?” William asked the hobbit as he walked over. Bilbo took a few steps back from the giant creature as it got low and in his face. He grimaced a bit at the troll’s ruined eye socket, where a reddish-black hole now was. It was less noticeable from a distance, but up close... Bilbo didn't want to be on the receiving end of whoever made that wound.

“Well...” Bilbo began tremulously. Before he could come up with a reasonable way of agreeing with the terrible smelling troll he found himself poked quite harshly in the chest, and he stumbled a bit in his sack to keep his balance. Distantly he heard Bofur chirp at the troll, and Fili said something that almost sounded like a threat.

“You think I don’t know what you’re up too?” William asked, oblivious to the dwarves. Bilbo bit back on the little noise of pain at being poked so savagely by a creature ten times his size, and looked back on the troll as he walked away from him. “This little ferret is taking us for fools!”

“Ferret!” Bilbo squawked, pain replaced with indignation. He was offended at being compared to the smelly little weasels that liked to chew through food storages if they go into his home. Clever they were, but very damaging as well. Not at all how a Baggins was.

Ayth huffed an almost laugh at the noise Bilbo made, then regretted it almost instantly when made her ribs flare up. She groaned again, this time loud enough that Balin took notice and asked if she was ok. Thorin answered Balin where Ayth couldn't, and when she opened her eyes once more Balin was there checking her over where Thorin couldn't.

"Dawn shall take you all!" Gandalf’s voice echoed in the rocky shelter the trolls hid in, starting all the species present.

“Who's that?” William asked curiously as the attention of the three trolls turned to Gandalf.

“No idea.” Another troll answered, completely uninterested in the old looking human, and he turned to go back to his job of spinning the dwarves.

“Can we eat him too?” Tom asked.

Gandalf didn't dine to talk to the monstrous beings like Bilbo did and slammed the bottom of his staff on the boulder he stood on. The company found themselves covered in the shining light of the rising sun in the next second, and those that could still see the trolls watched them move in pain as their skin started stiffening, turning them to... stone. Actual. _Stone_. Trolls.

There was a moment of silence as realization settled on the dwarves that they were just saved by the wizard that had been missing all night, and then cheers rang around the campsite. They were free! They weren't going to be cooked and eaten!

In an instant the dwarves on the ground started biting at the strings of their bags to loosen them so they could shimmy out, save Thorin, Balin, and Ayth, who worked to get her on the ground with as little antagonism towards her ribs as they could manage now that there was no concern for the trolls to notice them. It worked most of the way, but Ayth still curled around her side once she was on solid ground.

“-Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, and that's everyone.” Gandalf counted off after he walked down to their level. He looked around for something to douse the fire so they could cut the burning dwarves down, and he tipped the pot of stew the trolls had originally been making to eat. The dangling dwarves sighed in relief as the fire was removed, and the few dwarves that had successfully gotten their cocoons off descended on them to cut them down.

“Was anyone hurt?” Gandalf asked the company as he began looking over each of them more closely.

“We probably have heatstroke,” Nori replied cheerfully as Fili cut him down, and Kili was there to catch him so he didn't fall into the stew.

“Bilbo was poked by a troll, do you think it hurt him?” Bofur asked, his question directed at the wizard and hobbit for one of them to answer. Bilbo stuttered a reply that he was quite fine and was only bruised in _worst_ case scenario when Gandalf leveled him a stare.

“Ayth's in pain.” Balin piped up from the back. Oin whirled around at the eldest dwarf's words, and Thorin wiggled away from Ayth when Oin swarmed her so he wasn't in the doctor's way.

“Ayth?” Gandalf inquired while Oin started loosening the strap that held her captive. The half dwarf hummed a non-committal noise back at him, and proceeded to smack at Oin's hands when he started jostling her to get the bag off. The doctor growled at her actions, but stepped back to let Ayth began the slow process of removing the bag herself, lest he risk her ire later when she was healed. As soon as the cloth was past her ribs Balin took it carefully from her while Oin helped her to her back and got all her joints straight.

“Your silence is concerning.” The doctor muttered as he started looking for where she was on pain. Ayth smiled humorously at him, and Thorin directed the doctor to her side with a free arm. In an instant, the dwarf's hands shifted to the hem of her shirt to see her skin, and  _that_ got a verbal response from Ayth.

“Make me a bead first, Oin.” She whispered, grabbing his hands. Oin looked up, ready to tell her where to stuff her comment, and then looked at where she nodded her head at the rest of the dwarves, where some dwarves were laying on the cold ground in relief, others were still helping some down, and a few were watching on with some concern.

“Thorin,” Oin said with a jerk of his head, which was all the king needed to jump into action. He got up and began helping the last of the dwarves get free, and then he shooed them out of the little area.

“I think it best you sleep for now.” Gandalf murmured as he came around on Ayth's other side. The half dwarf looked at the wizard with curious speculation, and then shrugged as much as she was willing too.

“Sure. Let me just close my eyes, ignore the pain, and-” Ayth's partially sarcastic comment ended when the wizard ran his hand over her eyes, closing them to sleep for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have quite a few of these chapters already prewritten because I've been sitting on this story for some time antagonizing myself over showing it to the world. The thing I'm trying to do now is write a future chapter per chapter (or two) I post now so that my facts are straight across the board (no do-overs when something is published, eh?), which is exceedingly difficult when the chapter I'm currently writing is already sixty pages long and a fourth of the way done (yeah, these chapters get long quick).
> 
> So now I get to decide whether I want to try and finish the chapter I'm working on before I publish chapter 5, or just publish the chapters I already have on a semi-linear schedule despite that the chapter I'm currently working on is kicking my butt into the fourth age.
> 
> This is also me tentatively asking for some advice and/or pointers on what to do so I know what the readers want. So if anyone has advice, I would love to hear it.


	5. Wounded Arrival at Rivendell

At noon the same day of the troll incident, Gandalf went back to the makeshift safe spot that the dwarves had made for Ayth while she slept. Thorin had kept watch for most of the time since dawn, and only parted to eat while Dwalin watched. Gandalf was hoping that a meal would make it easier to talk to the dwarf king.

“No,” Thorin said as soon as he saw who had walked over, and Gandalf sighed.

"She’s hurt, Thorin. She needs to be moved. Rivendell is just a little ways off, we can walk there and they will help her." Gandalf said placatingly as he tried to reason with the dwarf that stood as an annoying protector (again). Crude bandages covered Ayth's right side over her innermost shirt, and Oin hinted something about pain and fever if they didn’t get ointment down her throat.

“Oin is just as good at bracing as any elf you could bring us too. Also, she hurt her ribs, Gandalf. She cannot be moved. She even said it herself!" Thorin replied for the umpteenth time. The dwarf and wizard had gone over this several times in the last seven hours, and a repeat seemed to be coming. But with a night of no sleep and a stomach half full of soup, Thorin Oakenshield was not giving in. Not until Ayth woke up at least.

The woman in question was on a makeshift bed of furs they'd found in the troll cave, dressed down to her last layer of clothes. For her safety of less infection, because they were out in the woods in an area that trolls had lived in for who knows how long, Oin had put the stabilizing bandages over her black shirt because he trusted her shirt more than the bandages to keep her clean if something happened. She was breathing in deeper as time went by, a sign of her waking up, and seemed to be using one side to breathe more than the other as if unconsciously aware of her pain. Thorin wouldn’t dwell on how she knew how to do it.

“We can’t have her entering the mountains incapable of fighting and protecting herself,” Gandalf said, a bit more stern in his approach this time. Thorin leveled him with a stubborn look that told Gandalf all he needed to know. He opened his mouth to try a different approach.

"Who injected moths into my head?" Ayth asked, spacy, before either man could start up a new argument. No sooner had she spoke did a yawn take over. Both males present cringed as they waited for her to gasp in pain. It never came, because Ayth breathed with her chest and not her stomach, concious of her pain. Though she did notice something off about her body. "Wait... Where did my armor go? And my vest?"

"Oin took them off to get to your side,” Thorin answered immediately, taking the out to not talk to the wizard. Now that Ayth was awake he would do what he could to get her back on her feet. "Do you need anything?"

Ayth glanced at him with a raised brow and watched him fret over her. It was interesting to watch his eyebrows knit down with concern, and the frown that covered his face was one of concern instead of brooding.

"There's a sight... Breakfast? Or rather, lunch?" She asked, looking up to see the sun over them. Thorin nodded at her words and walked off to fetch her single demand, leaving Gandalf and Ayth to talk.

"So, we should move because I'm wounded, should we?" Ayth asked lightly as she sat up without visibly showing a problem. If Gandalf hadn't seen the blossoming bruises and bumped up skin himself he would have never thought she was wounded. It was a little concerning to the ancient being.

"Yes. Rivendell-" He began, but the half dwarf stopped him before he could finish his sentence.

"No need to try and make me agree with moving, I know we need too, but I refuse to go to Elf Capital willingly. Last time I was carried in wounded and I didn’t leave for ten years. I’m good." She said, and waved her hand in the air like it aided her point. Gandalf chuckled at her words as he watched her stand slowly to her feet. Her woolen shirt fell back to her mid-thigh, over her brown pants, which were safely secured low on her hips by the drawstring. Ayth reached up to adjust the height of her pants to a more comfortable level and swayed where she stood. Gandalf moved forwards as soon as she started toppling as the delayed pain from her wounds finally appeared.

"Overprotective, the lot of them," Gandalf said as he rested a hand under her elbow. Ayth looked up at the nearly two-foot difference between them and smiled fully. She stood up straight with his help and took a deep breath. She held it in as she felt the pain in her right side, and released the breath as she blocked the pain, if only temporarily.

"Can't be helped. I'm, technically, a dwarf daughter from a, technically, king," She answered. A bushy eyebrow raised at her words, but no comment was made. Ayth got her bearings with Gandalf by her side, and then she walked the few steps needed to lean against a tree. "How long was I out?"

"A few hours. We took camp some fifty feet from the trolls’ cave. Thorin wouldn't leave without you awake and able to move. We’ve lost the ponies, so we are on foot from here. Can you make such a walk wounded?" Gandalf asked.

Ayth looked at him like she was insulted, which was more the dwarf he knew.

"I can walk. I wouldn’t exactly recommend a fight unless we _have_ to, but I can walk, preferably once I get food in me... How is the rest of the company?" She

"All in good health once they cooled down," Thorin answered as he walked in from behind her coat, which had been hung for a sense of privacy. He looked over at her at the tree, then glanced at the bed where he’d seen her last. He opened his mouth to order her to sit, but a sharp glare stopped him before he said anything. He promptly decided he’d rather not deal with Ayth in pain. She would probably talk back to him if he tried to make her do anything outside of what would be considered beneficial to the group. So instead, he walked over and handed the bowl to her without saying anything. She took the soup respectfully but sipped from it eagerly, and pretended she didn't taste medicine. She tried to think of when she last ate, only to realize it had been lunchtime yesterday.

Gandalf knew there was no way he could convince the two stubborn dwarves to go to Rivendell if they were in the same space, so he left to take time with the other dwarves. Maybe if he got Oin on his side the rest would follow along better than they are now.

“New sword?” Ayth asked eventually, once most of her soup was gone, and pointed her spoon at Thorin’s hip. He glanced down at where she pointed and pulled the sword out of its sheath to let her look at the design. She raised an eyebrow at its make. “Elvish?”

“Yeah. From the cave the trolls hid in. Not exactly my choice... but Gandalf said I wouldn’t find any better weapon.” Thorin answered while he put it back in its scabbard. At the reminder of the trolls, the mood shifted from comfortable to depressing. Thorin looked at Ayth, who suddenly had her head down, and her shoulders hunched over.

“Ayth?” He called out softly, unsure if she was in pain or guilty about something.

"You could have left, outrun the three trolls into dawn's light." She answered. That hadn’t been what the king thought she’d say. Maybe she felt bad for using bandages, or slowing them down half a day, or maybe even that she got hurt and made this trip a bit more difficult now, but not that he’d dropped his weapon for her and Bilbo. There had been no other choice for Thorin in that situation; it was his job to protect the entire company until some force made it impossible. There was more chance of survival with all of them together rather than apart, though it had taken Bilbo to be the one to make that survival possible.

"There was no other option in my mind. I won’t ever leave a member of my company at the hands of harm. Especially not something like a troll’s hand." Thorin replied seriously. Ayth glanced up at him and looked over his frame for some body language that said what he wouldn’t. He glowered at her ribs now, like he could glare them into mending their crooked ways within a few minutes.

"I’ve been hurt worse than this.” She said, which was not comforting in the slightest to the dwarf king. He’d seen and heard her do a few things now from her stories that said she was familiar to wounds and pain, but he’d yet to find real proof beyond the fights between company members. Until now. Because she flat out said it. He found he wanted to know what pain she’s felt, what strife she’s gone through; what battles had she fought and won, and what had she lost? It was a weird want, one he didn’t know where it came from, save that he was still learning more about the enigma called the half dwarf.

“What were those trolls doing so far South?" Ayth asked as she abruptly changed topics. Thorin blinked a few times as he came back to the moment at hand. He looked back up at Ayth, and like that his glowering curiosity was gone.

"That’s a good question. One Gandalf nor I could figure it out though." He answered. Ayth sighed heavily, which made Thorin wonder about her side. He wasn't going to say anything (“breathe less”) though. Her daggers were within reach now, and she couldn't be happy about anything at the moment. She was probably in pain and wasn’t showing it, and pain did  _not_ make someone happy, much less tolerant of a lot around them.

"Shall we leave soon?" Thorin asked instead to subtly incline about her wellbeing. Ayth looked over at him once more, spoon halfway to her comically wide mouth. She finished the trek, engulfing a steaming spoonful of soup and medicine instead of answering. Her foot then shuffled against the ground, and she cocked her head like she was listening to something.

"Huh." She said, curiously confused. That hadn’t been what Thorin expected, and it made him alert. He pushed off his tree he leaned against to stand beside Ayth, hand on his new weapon.

"What is it?" He asked. She only looked at the ground, pointedly pressing her booted foot to it.

"Something rides towards us," She murmured before taking another sip of soup. "Something I've never faced before. It a pack of something, but their feet are too fast to be horses."

Their peace ends as the word "Thieves!" was shouted into the noon sun. Thorin ran out of the area while Ayth dropped her breakfast to get suited up. She shifted her armor on carefully and fumbled with the strings of her vest, trying not to be jerky in her movements. She attempted to find a balance in her tie that made the vest loose enough that it would not hurt her ribs, but tight enough that the clothing would not slip off of her. The vest were meant to hold her clothes down not make things worse.

By the time her coat was on and weapons were in their respectful places, the mysterious movement was gone. Ayth emerged with an air of caution, for she hadn’t heard fighting, but she also didn’t hear any noises period. She found all the dwarves placed off to one side in a group. Gandalf was talking to a hermit dressed in brown clothes, who had rabbits... attached to a sled. That explained what she felt and why she had no idea what it was. She spared a glance at the poorly dressed and dirty man once more before facing Thorin and Company.

"Who is he?" She asked Nori as she slid in beside him on the tree. Nori only glanced at the man in question, who was inhaling on Gandalf's large pipe.

"Radagast the Brown I believe his name is." He answered shortly. Ayth blinked as she remembered Gandalf said something about a loose bolt in his head. She sighed tiredly, though she had slept longer that morning than she had for a long while.

"I see why we’re all comfortable, I remember Gandalf said something about this Radagast not being all in his head." She murmured. All the dwarves looked at the two wizards just in time to see Radagast produce a stick bug from his mouth when he said something was on the tip of his tongue. Ayth pulled a face and decided standing there watching the wizards wasn’t worth the soup she’d consumed. She switched places and walked over to a rather large tree root, intent to sit on it. She made a show of crossing her legs as she pulled out her carved gem, and one of her odd daggers followed closely after. She proceeded to dig into the gem, leaving a sprinkle of different sized parts that fell into Bilbo's waiting hands below. The rest of the company broke off, some watching the Wizards' interactions, others talking about whatnots.

"My Gimli is a natural at the ax."

"Do you think my sword needs to be sharpened?"

"Do you have any food?"

"I do not have the patience for the wizards to become acquainted. We need to move, get to Erebor before someone else does." Thorin’s voice cut through the white noise. Ayth tuned herself to Thorin and Gandalf then, listening for news or orders.

"This is not from this world, Gandalf," Radagast said with perhaps the most serious voice Ayth had yet to hear. She glanced up in time to see the brown clothed wizard pass Gandalf something, a sword if she trusted her eyes enough. She squinted as a glint of dark grey was revealed. She’d never seen a sword like that before.

A vicious howl pierced the air from their right before anyone could say anything about the blade. The dwarves knew the sound as soon as they heard it, and they remembered what it always brought. It was a warg, and it didn't sound far away.

"Is that a wolf? Are there wolves out here?" Bilbo asked as he stood with little chips of garnet marring his hands and pockets. Ayth didn’t dwell on answering Bilbo; she promptly pressed her feet to the ground and closed her eyes to feel the vibration in the earth. She wasn’t exactly a ranger, but she had learned some things being alone on the lands, and she was eternally familiar with wargs and their vibrations in every situation.

"No, not wolves," Bofur says, pulling out his mattock. "Wargs."

Thorin pulled out his new sword while he circled the area to see which direction they would come from. His eyes landed on Ayth who sat, feet on the ground, eyes closed.

"Everyone stop moving." He ordered, noticing the way her legs twitched. Even the rabbits listened to his order, and they all watched Ayth move with methodical precision as she pulled out four daggers. There was a crack of a branch from behind Dwalin, and before any could move, Ayth threw her daggers, eyes still closed. A wounded bark came from the beast who fell the rest of the way down. Thorin rushed forwards to finish it off and fished the daggers out of the matted fur for the half dwarf.

"Thorin!" Fili warned, and an arrow whizzed past the exiled king as Kili dropped another warg, which Dwalin and Gloin promptly dealt with.

"Warg scouts " Thorin said loudly for all to hear. "Which means an Orc pack is not far behind.”

Ayth, who had agitated her ribs with the move she did, walked stiffly over to Thorin and took her daggers from him without a word. Thorin did a double take on her and her walk, but she moved over to a warg before he could ask anything.

“Wargs scouts?” She huffed stiffly and moved the dead warg’s head to check its muzzle for the type of breed it was. “This is a Gundabad warg. I haven’t seen these in eighty years.”

“Who did you tell, beyond your kinsmen?” Gandalf asked Thorin. The Grey Wizard had never personally met a Gundabad warg before, but he’d heard Ayth’s story from her and her healers and knew not to take them lightly; they were the more intelligent species of warg, able to sniff out weak points if you left it standing long enough.

“No one,” Thorin replied instantly to the suddenly very dangerous looking Wizard, because it was the truth.

“Who did you tell?” Gandalf pressed, louder now, just to make sure. He couldn’t have secrets right now and Thorin might keep them if the situation wasn’t pressed upon.

“No one!” Thorin said again. “I swear.”

“Why?” Balin asked curiously. The grey wizard gazed at all of them like they’d ruined field trip day, and he looked more like his age then. Whatever age that was.

“Because you are being tracked.” He sighed, biting the metaphorical arrow. Just as the revelation was told another howl pierced the air. Ayth leaned down slowly and pressed her hand to the ground as the hermit walked up to Gandalf.

“You go. I’ll draw them off.” Radagast told, remarkably clear-minded at that moment.

“These are Gundabad Wargs, they will outrun you,” Gandalf said. Ayth stood after finding no other vibrations (yet), and relaxed best she could where she stood. They watched Radagast smile cheekily.

“These are Rhosgobel rabbits!” He answered with an incredibly smug grin. “I’d like to see them try.”

* * *

 

The sound of wargs never sounded so loud to Ayth as she ran from the safety of the forest tree line and into a sparser space with much fewer trees and more rocks. Flashing through her mind as they ran was the last time she fought Gundabad Wargs, very nearly in the exact same place she was now, perhaps two or three miles north of here. It had been a fight where tooth and nail had almost been enough when it was one against five of the more intelligent species of warg. The last two got her on the end, and it was only the help of elves that saved her that day. And it's the elves that made sure only a bite mark the size of her hand was left on her hip.

Ayth’s spot in the middle of the group changed until she was running behind the rest as her ribs began to ache fiercer. She kept up to the best of her ability with the pain, but when they all stopped she didn't know because her eyes were on the ground, and she crashed into Gloin, who scrambled to grab her when she fell backward.

“Ayth?” He asked, alarmed for the half dwarf who was usually spritely on her feet. He tried to get her straight, but the crash against a solid form had Ayth leaning over her side on instinct to protect her ribs from the world.

“I’m fine. It just aches.” She whispered. No sooner had she spoke, the company members ran a different direction from before, and Gloin had to carry Ayth until she got her own feet beneath herself again. Once she could keep herself up on her own he ran farther ahead, up until he was beside their resident healer Oin, who he then whispered to. Oin looked back at Ayth, who leaned heavily against the wall when they stopped once more to watch Radagast run by them with more wargs and orcs than before. He moved over to Thorin before they went off again.

“Ayth isn’t doing so well with the run.” He whispered quietly to the dwarf king. Thorin swiveled around to look at Ayth, who was getting her feet beneath herself for the next sprint. He watched now as Gandalf took off running once more. She ran at the back of the group, and now that Oin had mentioned it he saw how Ayth ran, slightly bent over her torso.

They stopped behind a boulder once again, and they took a second to pause and check for safety. Thorin made his way over to Ayth in that pause; she was leaning heavily against the wall beside Nori with one hand on her sword at her hip and the other against the wall as a brace. He stopped when he heard a growl and was quick to realize there was a goblin-warg duo above them on the rock: looking, listening, and sniffing for them.

Thorin switched gears and focused on getting rid of the danger before focusing on the wounded. He nudged Kili two dwarves down from him, and pointedly looked at his bow to silently tell him to shoot the danger down. The youngest of the dwarves nodded once, slowly pulled out an arrow from is quiver, and knocked it. Ayth watched on from her spot against the wall, tempted to stop Kili, because no matter which one he shot the other one was still standing, but she didn’t have a better plan. They couldn’t walk without being heard, and they shouldn’t let either orc or warg get too close to them.

They all watched Kili take a calming breath, pull his string taut, and rush forward to shoot the warg. There was a snarl, a pained yelp, and the warg plus its cargo fell to the spot in front of them. The dwarves rushed forwards to finish them off and not give the orc time to shout their location. While they did that Thorin ran to Ayth’s side, trusting his men to get the job done.

“Ayth?” Thorin inquired cautiously, and he pushed her up straight with a hand on her shoulder to see how bad she was. Ayth looked at Thorin, who quickly noticed an uncharacteristic sweat along her brow, which was pinched down in pain. She breathed heavily, and even though Thorin pressed her against the rock she still leaned to one side. Despite all of the signs that said she was clearly in pain, she _still_ smiled at him.

“I’m fine. Just in pain,” She answered honestly. She stood up straight, a deceptive maneuver so Thorin wouldn’t focus on her. “Company first, me later.”

Thorin didn’t like that, but he didn’t know what he could do while they were being hunted. They were followed by wargs, they couldn't stop. One of them could carry her, but that was dangerous if the wargs got close. They could run at her speed, but that might put them _all_ in danger.

“Try and keep up,” Thorin said softly, unable to do more in this time-sensitive moment. Ayth smiled bigger briefly, nodded, and took a deep breath. She pushed the pain back.

Dwalin and Bifur slammed their weapons into the warg, and it howled in its last breath, making all of their ears ring as it died. Ayth pushed off the wall once the pain was a bit less noticeable, and Thorin left her side to stand by Gandalf. They surveyed the area for the wargs because that noise was sure to draw the others. They just had to wait and see from which direction.

“Run!” Gandalf shouted as the howls began from behind their group, drawn to them by the one they'd slain. The group of sixteen ran once more, following the tallest of them all the way to a rocky formation that Gandalf seemed bent on getting to. They made it halfway before they stopped because the wargs were coming in from every direction, and the rocks Gandalf ran to wouldn't help them hide now. They were surrounded.

Ayth reached over her shoulder for her long sword, the lighter of the two weapons she had, so she wouldn’t need as much force to fight. She willed the ache in her side further away than before so she could focus on protecting herself and her companions in this dangerous moment.

“Where is Gandalf!” Dori shouted as he noticed a distinct lack of a tall Wizard.

“He has abandoned us!” Dwalin shouted back. The dwarves spun around the area to look for their Grey friend and found him nowhere. He just disappeared.

Ayth also looked for the wizard for a moment, and then promptly chose to forget about Gandalf and his disappearing trick, and instead focus on the chaos that was becoming their surroundings. Kili was shooting arrows at the orcs astride the wargs, successfully getting each of them, Ori was shooting pellets at them and failing to keep them away, and the rest were weapons out and ready for when they closed in.

“This way you fools!” Gandalf shouted, and they turned to find him standing  _in_ the rock that they thought was just a rock. Oh, a secret tunnel Gandalf knew about, that made more sense than him running away when things got hairy.

The company made its way to the hole in the rock, save Ayth, Dwalin, Thorin, and Kili who stayed behind until the rest were safe. As expected, a few of the wargs ran after them as most of their prey began to escape their clutches, and the warriors prepared to fight back.

Ayth swung her sword up high in a circular motion at an orc-warg duo that charged her and caught an orc through his stomach as he ran past her on a warg. She ducked his blow from his weapon that came a split second after his body, and she heard her side pop more than she felt it. Ayth placed the sword against the ground in mock of a cane, and used it to hold her body up in the open field as she waited for the pain to come with the pop.

“Kili!” The name pierced the air like ice, spoken by Thorin and Dwalin. Ayth spun on her heel to find Kili and the danger he was in, and she found his back was to her, bow up on an orc in front of him, and a warg (with an orc falling off it) ascending on his unsuspecting back. Ayth didn’t hesitate to beelined for Kili and the warg she’d let pass, not fast enough to overrun the warg, but at least fast enough that when it went for the kill she crashed into it. The air escaped her lungs when she slammed into the fully grown warg, and she felt her lung compress from the shock as she rolled onto her back. She paused, trying to get a breath into her shocked lungs before she needed to get up. The warg got to her first, and it towered over her with teeth bared.

Ayth's breath caught before she even got it back, momentarily paralyzed in fear as she stared face to face with the snarling beast. As soon as she could move again she reached for her sword just a couple of feet away while she retained eye contact. Her fingers just barely tipped the hilt of it, and she willed herself to stretch. She stopped trying when she pushed it farther away instead of nearer, and she deflated where she lie. Thoughts began racing through her head; a blind hope one of them would help her right then, along with moments of her life flashing before her eyes as she stared at the beast's maw.

The memory of her first animal kill, the first memory of her dad, the last memory of her mom, the evolution of her aging siblings, her teaching her siblings how to use a sword, her siblings’ graves, back talking her father, crying on her uncle when she saw him again, her One's smile on the eve of their first year together, Smaug, Erebor burning, her elven sword she made, her dwarven sword she received from her uncle when she left striplinghood. The twenty-two daggers that lined her body, their undying loyalty to her...

Kili resigned himself to death when he felt the warg on top of him, and his final decision was his cry for his uncle’s and mom’s forgiveness for being so reckless. So when he closed his eyes for what he thought would be the last time, he didn’t expect the warg to move off him. He heard a high pitched _pained_ gasp, and his uncle’s voice shouted Ayth’s name with as much pain and surprise as he had shouted his. Kili flipped to his back and glanced around to find the half human by that name, and he quickly found her on her back, the (most likely) same warg that had held him down now holding her down by her chest. He blinked stupidly at the scene of the struggling half-dwarf under a terrifyingly humongous warg, trying to comprehend the why of the situation. Had she just... Saved him? While already not able to protect herself? He didn't think she'd do such a stupid or brave move. Ever.

Kili continued to watch her body deflate as she gave up the fight against the warg. No, that couldn’t be right. He’d been in her constant company for over a month. He had never seen her give up once, not last night when they faced the trolls and she hurt her side, or when she and Dwalin fought for hours straight and she had cuts that needed bandages, or when his uncle tried to belittle her back in the beginning. She never gave in and she never gave up, but her stricken face here and now said differently. He was confused at her actions; she'd been infallible up to this point, and he'd never seen her stay down, so why was she giving up _now_?

It took him a second to realize that despite everything he’d seen, she was still one of _them_. A dwarf. Fighting for a cause because something was stolen from her, and she wanted back what she could still get back. She spun wonderful stories and faced imminent death (and Dwalin) without flinching, and would even insult if she could. She was quick, knew the land and plants, and had a grace about her that he’d never seen in dwarves. But she still was one. She was fallible. She could die just as easily as he could.

With that thought, he got up and tried to move fast enough to get the warg before it got her. He wasn't wounded like she was, if he slammed into the warg the same time he hit it, it would take another tumble and he'd be on top. He could try to protect Ayth as she had protected him. Ayth, the half-dwarf that told great stories. Ayth, who was as quick of mind as she was of feet. Ayth, who fought as well as Dwalin. Ayth, who was already a friend to him, and well on her way to being called a sister in battle.

Kili went for his sword at his hip, trying to cross the seven-foot distance that separated him and her. He didn’t make more than two steps before the warg lunged- spit, tongue, and teeth aimed for Ayth’s face. He heard several voices shout ‘ _No!_ ’, and his was among them.

But the bite never landed. The warg never closed its jaw. Ayth’s nose just barely brushed its upper canines, and it was scrunched up in disgust. Kili jolted forwards, only to catch himself when he realized Ayth had stopped the warg somehow. He glanced over both of their bodies to find why and noticed Ayth had her hands embedded in the warg's neck. Kili frowned, trying to understand what was happening. You could choke wargs into not biting? Then why isn’t the warg showing some form of suffocation?

Next, he saw warm, black-reddish blood running down Ayth’s arms. He blinked once before it struck him. Her daggers. She had her daggers in his throat.

Ayth reacted without thought as she remembered her daggers. Her hands moved with practiced speed to grab four daggers where she could from her coat and stab upwards to catch the warg before it got her. She stared down the tongue of the beast who had just started to lunge, and took a moment to breathe as the danger was momentarily stopped by her weapons. Brief relief flooded her head at her short term fight response, and then the pain from her side was realized once more. Her right arm went weak as her side stabbed with pain under the weight of a full grown warg, and it fell closer to her before she pressed back up into it. The warg above her whined and pulled back slightly.

“I will not die today. I still have a home to take back.” She growled at the warg, and looked past the pain she was in for her own survival. There was worse she could experience, like having teeth in her face. Intelligence flashed in the warg’s eyes, and he retaliated with his own growl.

He went back for another bite despite the steel piercing through his throat, and she twisted her hands. Bits of blood splashed her face with the move, and the warg pulled back again with another low whine. He adjusted his clawed paws against her chest, not for damage but for balance, and she felt her ribs bend painfully under its weight as it shifted lower down on her body. He noticed her wince when he moved, _easily_ put two and two together, and was quick to press against her clothed chest with more force. The large claws bit through her clothes and armor easily with his full weight, which allowed his nails to stab her, and she cried out as they dug into her skin.

That woke Kili up, and he went up those last five steps to help. Dwalin, who was a short distance behind him, followed in pursuit, and both of them ran to help the half dwarf.

Ayth felt the warg tense, felt the vibrations of the dwarves coming to her aid, and the not so distant clomp of horses. Instead of waiting to dwell on who the horses belonged to (she already knew), she released the warg by pulling her daggers sideways. Rivulets of blood managed to seep through the warg’s fur, and it landed on her before Kili pushed the warg off. She gasped for breath and rolled away as Dwalin jumped over her to help Kili. She sheathed her blood covered daggers and reached for her long sword to put it in its scabbard before they ran.

Kili left the warg to Dwalin once he’d pushed it off Ayth, making Ayth’s safety his main priority as he went to pick her up. Ayth stood on her own for a few seconds once Kili got her on her feet, and then she slumped in his grasp. The young dwarf took it in sliding and adjusted his grip to hold her, and they began to hobble-walk to the entrance where Thorin still stood, looking torn between staying in place and running to help.

Dwalin fell in on the other side of the wounded half dwarf to help the youngest of their company. He noticed Ayth was bleeding, how heavily she was leaning on Kili, and raised her other arm to take some of the weight. Spread between two of them they moved much faster to the entrance Thorin stood at, and the enemies behind them soon couldn't follow because of horses that appeared from all directions.

“Come on lass, you can make it,” Dwalin muttered to her. He heard her hum something in agreement.

All three fell over the edge: Ayth first, Dwalin second, and Kili third. Ayth rolled to the bottom, crashed into Ori, and knocked him over. Dwalin landed in a heap next to them, and Kili landed on top of him. Thorin followed after but landed on his feet with only a wobble. Fili immediately ran to his brother, picking him up from Dwalin to check him for injuries. Dwalin was overwhelmed by Balin and Dori a moment later, his older brother and friend fretting over the new cut on his brow. Thorin went over to Ayth, followed by Gandalf, Gloin, and Oin. She stood without much prompt, and aided Ori in standing as best as she could before she allowed herself a rest. The poet thanked her and blushed his way out of the situation quickly, and went to his brother Nori. Ayth chuckled at the younger dwarf despite the pain that was clearly written on her face. Her hand over her side didn’t go unnoticed by any of them, and she definitely favored her left side now.

“Were you further wounded?” Thorin asked, worried after hearing her cry of pain just moments prior. Ayth looked at him slowly, ironically covered in blood, and glanced at the party that followed before nodding. She shrugged her coat off carefully and revealed how the upper part of her body and head were covered in two different colors of blood. Her armor was interlinked with a bright red liquid, and her red vest was wet in the shoulders, its already dark color looking nearly black with warg blood.

“The warg noticed my pain when he stood on my ribs and stuck his claws in me when it couldn’t bite me.” She answered breathily. Oin came up to her side to help her stand when she keened with a new wave of pain. He pressed a hand against her wounded side to feel it and felt a strange bump that wasn't there before.

“We’ll get you medical attention as soon as we know it's safe enough,” Thorin told her, and he went over to Dwalin, who was inspecting an orc that fell down with an arrow sticking out of his neck. He pulled the arrow out as Thorin got near.

"An Elf." Dwalin surmised after only staring at it for a few seconds.

"Just what we need." Thorin grumbled, but he was also relieved. It _was_ good news, it meant _they_ were out of danger. The king turned to go right back to Ayth and Oin and found them already fussing over her wounds. Whatever Oin had found had him trying to get her vest off, only for Ayth to brush his hands aside.

"Turns out we are safe right now, and he needs to see it," Thorin soothingly spoke as he crept closer to them. Ayth turned her attention to him, which allowed Oin to take her vest off once he’d finally gotten through the strings. Now to get past her chain mail, which would be much harder since it didn’t have something as handy as lacings. He did what he could and pulled it up, along with the falling apart bandages and her undershirt, to see the wounds as best as he could. He tsked angrily at whatever he saw.

"This is beyond what Oin can help given our current circumstances " Ayth answered, a little more confident in her speech. The doctor muttered something about how he’ll show her how helpful he can really be when he pins her to the ground and sits on her, which Ayth didn’t seem to take seriously. Thorin almost wanted to let her know Oin was not above following through with his threat.

"There's a tunnel but I cannot see the end! Do we follow it?" Dwalin shouted, breaking the conversation up before it could go further. Ayth smiled at the news of a safer path out and brushed Oin off not so gently. She reached for the vest in his hand and shrugged it back on, but didn’t tie it down.

"Let's find what is at the end of this tunnel. Then, me." Ayth said helpfully, and walked past Dwalin with a surprising amount of steadiness considering she'd needed help getting to the cave in the first place. Thorin followed hot on her tail, followed by the rest in a close line, none letting Ayth leave alone. It wasn't a fluke that she had to be carried. She _needed_ to be, that didn’t just stop because the danger was gone. In fact, she should be in more pain now that the danger _wasn't_ there.

Their collective fears proved true. Several times in the walk Thorin had to catch Ayth when she stumbled over the path. Halfway through the short walk, Ayth needed to lean on him for balance. Behind them, the grumbles of Gandalf berating Ayth were getting louder, and Dwalin became a constant helpful hand as they got through narrow spots. By the time they found open space that overlooked Elftown, Ayth was barely standing on her own. Thorin could feel her skin temperature rising through her long sleeve, and she was starting to shiver.

"You brought us here? To seek the help of our enemies? I specifically said no to elf help!" Thorin growled at the wizard. Gandalf looked down at Thorin and Ayth when the dwarf spoke, unbothered by Thorin, who looked at him with fire in his blue eyes, and concerned Ayth, whose pallor matched that of the cloud.

" _Ayth_ needs help, and that map of yours needs to be thoroughly read. Elrond is one of the last living beings alive who can read it, and you would be a fool to say no when a member of your company needs critical attention that you are not able to give." Gandalf replied easily, with a look that told Thorin not to test him. The dwarf king glared at the old man, and subconsciously wrapping his arm tighter around Ayth's waist as she leaned more into him. He heard her mumble under her breath, for him to hear or not was unknown. At Thorin’s silence, Gandalf drew himself to his tallest and looked over the company.

"Now. This situation needs to be handled with care, respect, and no small amount of charm. Which is why _I_ will do the talking." Gandalf said cooly while he took the lead at the front. Slowly the other dwarves fell into line with Dori taking last, behind Bilbo.

Thorin heard Ayth constantly muttering under her breath, making sounds that sounded elvish and dwarvish at the same time. Halfway through the walk to the pearly white archway he felt Ayth tense, and she suddenly stood straight and alert. It was like she wasn’t wounded, despite that she was white, bleeding, and sweating, and was very much like how she was normally. It was lucky she could stand on her own in that second, because she hissed at Gandalf in a very _elvish_ manner, and Thorin stumbled away from her at the sound.

Gandalf visibly graced her with a dull stare at _whatever she just said in Elvish_ . Ayth maintained her stance and stare for three seconds more, and then was slumping over once again. Thorin was over his shock that she _spoke Elvish_ enough that he was able to catch her.

"You speak _Sindarin_?" He asked, horrified at the knowledge. Ayth glanced at him from her slightly straighter position than before, even though she still needed his help to walk. Now that her head was up he saw her shoulders were wet with blood, and he distantly wondered why and how she was still awake.

"Regretfully yes. As any dwarf, I didn't trust the elves, and a lot of them choose not to speak common in their home. So I learned to speak their language. Though I am not fluent, I can make and retain conversations with minimal issue." She answered with a sniff. He nodded slowly, wondering how he should react to that. Honestly, he didn’t know. Their resident half dwarf spoke Westron, Khuzdul, and now Sindarin. On one hand, that was a _mighty_ gift that could get them through almost anywhere now, but on the other hand, she was a half dwarf that spoke _elvish_. If she walked into a dwarf mountain with that tongue she would be kicked out no matter who she was.

“You can’t speak the Black Tongue can you?” Thorin asked after several feet, half joking. He couldn’t decide what to feel about Ayth now, so he went the humor route instead. Ayth laughed quietly against his chest, so he thought it worked out well.

“No. I know the barest minimum required from living near them for years, but I can’t _speak_ it.” She answered. Thorin wondered what ‘barest minimum’ meant to her. Did she mean she couldn’t speak it fluently? Or that she could pick words out in context but was otherwise null? That she could understand what was being said, just couldn’t say it herself? There were so many possibilities to her statement.

It was a few minutes later that they finally walked across an ornate bridge into the home of the elves. Ayth was back to leaning on Thorin fully, and he had to remove her longsword and short sword (and give them to Balin) to continue to hold her up. He was considering picking her up at this point to save them the issue later, but wouldn't try it until he was sure she wouldn’t punch him hard enough to hurt him.

Ayth hissed at Gandalf in elvish again as they passed the white archway, looking thoroughly put upon. She twitched and dodged many elves who probably recognized her, and she was stiff against Thorin. A moment later an important looking elf walked down the stairs looking between Gandalf, the dwarves, and Ayth. He glanced over her from head to toe with a disinterested look, though his brows furrowed a fraction when he took in her blood-soaked front, and then he turned to Gandalf. Ayth shuffled where she rested.

"Hello, Gandalf-" Was all the dwarves understood from the tall creature. Gandalf's reply sounded nice and polite, but it was also in elvish. Thorin looked to Ayth, wondering if she understood them, but she was blatantly ignoring the two.

"My Lord Elrond is not here." The elf answered in common tongue finally.

"Well, where is he?" Gandalf asked, a bit put out. The elf looked hard put to answer for a moment before he opened his mouth to say whatever fib he decided on. A horn sounded out in the air though, a familiar one from perhaps an hour ago. All the dwarves (and hobbit) turned and saw several elves astride war horses galloping their way with bows and spears in hand.

"Close ranks!" Thorin shouted at the sight of the impending horses, and he pulled Ayth into the middle where Bilbo stood. Upon the order given, weapons were drawn while the dwarves closed around the weakest of their company. Ayth sighed after a moment and stood as tall as she could against the dwarf king.

"Stand down you silly dwarves." She grumbled, pushing her way through their walls like they were paper. Thorin followed closely behind for when she no doubt fell again, and put a hand on her shoulder before she could walk too far away from the group itself.

"Gandalf. You are a surprise to see." A tall, dark-haired elf said as he dismounted, and he and Gandalf _hugged_. "We just came back from hunting orcs. Strange to see them so close to our borders. You wouldn't know anything about it?"

The Grey Wizard looked sheepish, and he waved a hand at the dwarves.

"That may have been our fault." He answered. The elf turned to look at the dwarves, and his eyes immediately landed on Ayth. Surprise flitted across his handsome face.

"En' Atta. So nice to see you again." Lord Elrond said rather pleasantly. Ayth stiffened at the name, and Thorin stepped half in front of her. The elf lord’s gaze flickered to him and he smiled in recognition. "Thorin, son of Thrain. You have your grandfather’s bearing."

"That's funny. He made no mention of you." Thorin snarked back instantly. Ayth smacked his shoulder decently hard and tossed some words over at Elrond. Thorin pretended not to grimace at the passage of silvery words from the silver-eyed half dwarf.

"Yes indeed," Elrond answered to whatever she said, and faced them bodily. He murmured something in elvish with a raised eyebrow, and none of the dwarves knew if he was teasing them or not.

"What's he saying? Does he want to fight?" Gloin asked, the only logical conclusion in his mind since the elf actively spoke elvish  _at_ dwarves. He had to know they didn't speak it in return, no matter what the strawberry blonde woman said.

The other dwarves followed suit, leaving Ayth to shake her head. Which was promptly when she stumbled from a dizzy spell. Thorin reacted fast given he was slightly in front of her and wrapped one arm around her waist to hold her up. He thought now was as better time as any and wrapped his other arm behind her knees, hefting her up into his arms. She made an attempt to get down, but Thorin didn't let her.

"He does not offer an insult. He offered food." Gandalf answered tiredly to the dwarves. He subtly nodded to Elrond to get him moving on helping Ayth; he could handle the dwarves far better than the elf could at the given moment.

"Well, in that case, we don't," Gloin answered, embarrassed now, and he put his weapon away. Elrond fought a rather massive eye roll and turned to face the exiled dwarf king now in his home.

"Come Thorin, we must get Ayth to the hospice if there is any hope to help," Elrond told Thorin as he motioned the dwarf to follow. Thorin opened his mouth to respond that Oin could handle her quite well on his own, thank you very much, but Ayth talked before he could.

"Follow him. They've helped before." She said, quiet-like so as to not antagonize her side against his armor. That shut Thorin up enough to not object to the elf lord, and he followed Elrond into something of a hospital wing. It was large, white, open to the public, and had beds everywhere.

Two elves who were already in the infirmary looked up when they entered. They glanced at the two dwarves, saw that one of them was being carried, heard an order from Elrond in annoying elvish, and were immediately moving. They ushered an unsure Thorin to one of the beds and had him place Ayth on it. They then gently shoved him aside some feet away, and he almost had half a mind to say something rudely to them in return. Instead, he held his tongue and watched the elves work over Ayth to find the source of her pain and bleeding before they dealt with it.

“You can go Thorin,” Ayth whispered to Thorin when she caught his eye. It was reminiscent of the night prior where she said similar words to ease his mind with the trolls, but just like last night, what she offered was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want to leave until he was absolutely certain she lived and that the elves did everything in their power to keep her alive. He tried to come up next to Ayth to ease his want to soothe her, but one of the elves glared at him when he got near.

"I would not trust them with Master Baggins nor Dwalin." He replied stiffly once he accepted he was thwarted from her side. Ayth grumbled out something in elvish while glaring at him, and he was absolutely positive she either insulted him or said something to the elves. He glared back, daring her to kick him out, in case it was the first one. While the two stared each other down, one of the doctors left and reappeared with a chair, and Thorin nodded a stiff thanks. His glare fell once he decided Ayth did the second option when she smiled thankfully at the elf.

The half dwarf didn't fight the elves like she had with Oin. She instead helped them remove her vest, armor, and undershirt as best as she could, which was a slow and painful process to watch. Thorin kept a trained eye on them as they worked, and only glanced away when Ayth’s undershirt was removed to give her a sense of privacy. He waited for the okay before he looked back.

When he did look back he had to fight a deep blush from the indecency as he laid eyes on her. The cover towel that was on her was folded so it only covered her upper ribs and chest, and a moment later he knew why. Above the towel were two sets of four long cuts that spanned her upper pectoral muscles, from the inner curve of the shoulder to right below her inner collar bones. Even though the wound had happened just under an hour ago, blood still came out in small swells where the wounds were deepest. What blood that was already on her was either dried to her skin or dripped down below to stain the bed and her braid. Below the towel on her right side were dark purple bruises, and something poked against her skin that pressed it white through the purple. The poking white hadn’t been there before, Thorin had watched Oin check and wrap her side that morning, and Thorin shivered. The thought of how much pain she must feel got to him, and he wondered how she managed to walk as far as she had. And then he wondered how she was conscious.

"How have you not passed?" He asked before he thought it through. He watched the elves pull out the needed herbs and salve to mend her, far less than he would have expected. Ayth looked sheepishly at him.

"Comes with my heritage. My bloodline makes more blood than it uses. It saves us many times in battle when help is far." She explained breathily, and one of the elves  _laughed_.

"So that's how you survived last time," The elf said while she washed away the blood from one of the punctures with herbal water and a rag. The other nurse immediately followed her movement with a salve, ceasing its blood flow. “The amount of blood on your clothes would make saving a human difficult, and you are a dwarf."

Thorin almost took offense, but the smile that lit Ayth's pale face made him pause.

"When will I walk again, Vanya?" She asked airily, even though it seemed obvious that she wasn't getting up for a _long_ time.

Thorin did a mental double take at the fact she knew the elf’s name, and his overall distrust of the two nurses eased up. These weren’t random elves, Ayth knew and  _trusted_ them to take care of her. Which either meant they've helped her before or Ayth trusted Elrond enough to know he’ll give her care. Either way, she knew these elves and trusted one of them (or both) at her weakest moment. Thorin sat a little differently, a bit more comfortable and in for the long haul. If Ayth could trust the elves, he could relax a bit more.

The two doctors looked at each other knowingly at her question, as if amused by what Ayth said, and judging by Ayth’s smile, she knew what she did. They have also obviously had this conversation before because they looked at Ayth with something Thorin almost wanted to call annoyed affection, like the last time she’d asked this they caught her trying to escape hours later.

"The combination of magic, heritage, and herbs will have you limping at dinner two days from now  _if you're lucky_. We would recommend you rest for a few days _at least_ first. Your fever is not high, but exhaustion may make you sick," _Vanya_ answered. Then, as an afterthought. " _Again_."

"I will rest tonight... After I have a hearty meal.” Ayth replied, sounding very dwarf-like at that moment, though it looked like she didn’t take her own words seriously. Both elves shook their heads at her while they wrapped bandages under her arms and across her chest, clearly not taking her words seriously either. Thorin watched on from his perch, flummoxed at the image of Ayth at ease and able to talk with the elves so casually and friendly.

The two moved on to her ribs after what could only be half an hour, where they began twisting and digging their hands around and about her stomach in a fluid manner. Ayth winced and tensed while they worked, but since she never stopped them, Thorin never stepped in. He watched her as she managed to stay awake, either from pain or sheer willpower, and she would sometimes hum something when the two nurses did a particularly annoying maneuver to her bones.

On one of their sweeps that required a shuffle of the towel upwards, Thorin noticed a raised, textured line along the uppermost part of Ayth's left ribcage, beneath her breast. It was very clearly a scar despite the blood that covered it. It was a single raised line that changed the skin texture around it, and it ranged from the midpoint of her left rib cage to the halfway point of her left side, beside her arm. Thorin wanted to know how she got it, and when, and who was able to hit her there, but he wouldn't pry into such topics until the elves were gone and Ayth felt better.

Now that Thorin saw one blemish on Ayth he found another. It caught his attention when the elves moved farther down her body, for it was a splatter of black on Ayth’s arm that was too defined to be a bruise. He moved subtly to the side of his chair to get a better look, and saw a _tattoo_ stained into Ayth's upper bicep. It looked like one large symbol, but the crusted blood that remained on her shoulders and arms covered half of it. He could make out a black outline that rang a bell in his head, but he couldn't place it at this distance. He didn't want to move closer to the elves to quench his curiosity either, for fear they’d shoo him out of the room this time, so he resigned himself to wait for an answer on the tattoo as well as the scar. It did make him wonder though, did she have any other scars or tattoos that none of them knew about? They had seen the piercings and heard her stories, but they had never seen proof to back them. Until Thorin was told point blank earlier today, as well as visually now.

The dwarf king looked back at Ayth's side to watch the elves heal his only female member. Her skin became a softer purple the longer they worked, and Thorin could tell that the ribs were mending as Ayth breathed. She took longer breaths and winced less, and eventually, she opened her eyes and watched without flinching. As she finally began to relax into the bed he conceded that the elves had medicines and abilities he could only dream of, and that Oin would have never been able to help this much. It was probably luck that Ayth had been here years ago and thus trusted that they would help her, otherwise time might not have been on their side.

Ayth’s eyes moved to him. She scanned his clothes first, probably a little bloody though he didn’t care to look down and check, and then her gaze shifted up to his face. He saw how tired she was, how second-hand everything must feel to her at that moment. Like the very act of keeping her eyes open was exhausting, and yet she didn’t close them for some reason. Her grey eyes, usually with some life in them, stared back with the bare minimum of emotion. They bounced around his face for several long seconds as her brain caught up with what she was seeing, and then she focused her eyes on _him_. She stared at him owlishly as she thought about whatever it was she planned to say. Maybe sooth his nerves, maybe tell him to leave, or maybe even crack a joke to make him smile, though it was unlikely he would manage that given the situation.

In the end, she didn’t say anything. She just stared at him a while longer. Then, she smiled. It was the little half smile that was her normal expression, the one he’d grown to think of as ‘Ayth’s face’, and the one that now covered his strung up nerves like a balm. It didn’t reach her eyes, but the fact that she smiled at him at all, even while in bed bloody, hit Thorin hard. It was clear the smile was only meant for him as well because it disappeared when she went back to watching the elves. The few seconds she did pinch her cheeks up was more than enough time for Thorin to understand her silent statement: _don’t worry, I’m fine_ . As if it was _her_ job to comfort _him_. The fact she put his emotional and mental state over her own need for sleep and health was as concerning as it was touching, and it said a lot more about her personality than any of the stories she ever told.

Thorin remembered when he first learned of Ayth, moments before she appeared in person, and how he imagined a dressed up woman decked out for a stroll and not an adventure, someone who’d probably never even held a weapon let alone knew how to use held one. When he did meet her he was sure that -despite her appearance- she wasn’t all she was cracked up to be. She was thin, smiled too willingly, and had dressy clothes for a nomad. Something had to be wrong with the image and its story, and he still sometimes wondered how some of that first night fit into her personality. Like the jewels in her clothes, he still had no idea why they existed. They had long since learned that Ayth was a very lightweight and only-essentials type packer. Gems in her clothes would be one of the last things to think about for her.

He also wondered how she would ever become a part of his Company. Male dwarves on an adventure were loud, disturbing, crude, and lacked manners many other cultures wanted. He found dwarf women, and most other women, were quiet and background in a journey so as to not draw unwanted attention to themselves as protection, so how would any of them remember Ayth was there? As he quickly discovered, after they started their adventure, she fit in better than Bilbo did. She wasn’t loud, but she was the reason the others were loud. She wasn’t physically disturbing, though she sometimes had an eerie far off look on her face that bordered on disturbing. She _was_ crude sometimes, and she sorely lacked the etiquette and manners expected of a woman. She’d fit in in her own way, and managed to make a name for herself in the company. They learned there was more about her than how she appeared. And now, he didn’t want to imagine his company without her. She was everything he thought the pros of when he attempted to stop her from making his men laugh. Without the help of these elves she would have surely died within the next few days, and then what would they have done? Continued on sure, but not as they could have. It would have been a dark mark in Thorin’s mind.

"Rest this afternoon knowing your companions are safe." The unnamed elf murmured to Ayth as they parted from her bedside, finished with all they could do with their healing magic and medicine. Ayth looked at them fully with awake eyes, and placed her hand over her chest while she nodded her head, which the two copied before they left. Thorin could only guess that that was the proper way to say goodbye in elf. It seemed as disinteresting, simple, and elegant as the elves themselves were.

With the two healers gone the leader and half dwarf of the company relaxed. Ayth seemed to melt into her bed, and Thorin watched her shift as carefully as she could while she tried to find a comfortable position that didn’t affect her wounds. She eventually leaned on her left side but had her shoulders almost flat to the bed. It gave them a vantage point to stare at one another, and they did for a long several minutes before Thorin finally stood up. Ayth’s eyes followed him as he walked over to her bedside (finally), and then he fell to his knees to be beside her head. She watched him with a rather dull expression, like she was too tired to muster the needed emotion to talk to him. It was a state Thorin never knew she could become.

"Thank you," He whispered. Ayth tilted her head subtly, and then made to sit up and face Thorin. She stopped when her shoulder protested and her head grew dizzy, and laid back down while she pinched her eyes closed.

"For what?" She asked curiously and a little pained, and Thorin felt his heart reach for her. Even though she had put her life on the line to save one of them, probably knowing she couldn’t get out of it on her own, she didn’t see it as something worth being thanked for. She would have done it no matter what, it didn’t matter that she almost died for Kili even while already wounded.

Thorin reached over and grabbed Ayth's hand then, to try and pass on whatever comfort he could give, wanting to let her know his thoughts but not able to explain them. Ayth’s eyes popped open at the feeling of something closing over her fingers, and she looked at where Thorin’s bare hand now lay on her gloved one. It took a moment longer for her to react as it sunk in that Thorin was actively touching her. Once it sunk in she closed her fingers around his, not quite sure what else to do.

"For saving Kili's life," Thorin answered simply, sounding more like an uncle than a leader right then. Ayth smiled at him at that, and she reached her other hand around to lay on the back of his. The comfort he’d attempted to give her was now being given to him.

"No need to say thanks. I would have done it for any of them." She murmured, and Thorin now knew that to be true. He never questioned what his men would do when faced with danger, he just knew enough of them would protect the others for it to be a safe group. To watch Ayth, who had to use her weapon as a cane after she hit _one_ orc, stand and _sprint_ at a warg far larger than her to save Kili had been a terrifying and eye-opening sight to what was possible in their group. Kili had body slammed the same warg to help Ayth, which was something Thorin had never seen Kili so willingly do for anyone besides his brother. Kili had then confidently and willingly turned his back on the warg to help Ayth, because he trusted Dwalin to have his back without asking or looking. It was a dynamic Thorin had seen in brothers-in-arms, but not in a group like theirs.

"I know, and I have many more reasons to say thank you, I just don’t know how to put them into words yet." He answered. Ayth hummed back as her eyes fell closed again, and sleep finally claimed her not shortly after. Thorin stayed by her bedside as she rested in much less pain than the night prior, and only left when Fili came and got him.


	6. Bits and Pieces of a Four Week Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So does anyone remember how I mentioned that these chapters can get long? Yeah, this one falls under that category at roughly 19.5K words. So this is my heads up that you might want to buckle in when you read this chapter because it will take a while. Stars knows it took me days to edit, and I probably missed some details along the way.
> 
> And as usual, I really hope you enjoy it.

It was two days later, in the early evening of late May, that Ayth opened her eyes to an empty room. She woke up feeling numb and spent a moment wondered if she was alive or if this was Mandos (or perhaps she went to Valinor?). She didn’t think Mandos (or Valinor) would look so elven to a dwarf though, which meant she w _as_ alive, and had something in her system that was making her numb. Ayth didn’t mind her numbness as she remembered the pain she was put through with every run she made, how a single swing of her sword had nearly put her to the ground, and how close to death she’d been before she allowed herself to sleep. This was her reprieve and she’d take it gladly.

"Thank you, Mahal." She murmured to the empty room. She placed her hand on her chest to feel her heart still beating and took purposeful swallowfuls of breath. She hadn't been that close to death since her last visit here, eighty years ago. Maybe the area beyond Rivendell had a spell on it that made it impossible for travelers to get through without stopping by. That or she had the worst luck with wargs right outside of Rivendell. Despite all she wanted to believe about the elves, it was most likely the second option.

Ayth moved her hand to rest on the spot by her where Thorin, Kili, and she thinks Lindir, had sat over the last few days and felt the residual warmth of whoever was last there. Then she moved her shoulders one at a time to test their mobility; the bandages wrapped tightly around each shoulder kept her from swinging them forwards or backward, but she found she could lift her arms sideways quite far up. Next, she lifted her hospital shirt up to check her ribs and poked at the swath of protective gauze over her right side, which she found didn’t give under her poke.

She counted her blessings a little longer, then she stood up and tested her balance to see if she would keel over in either direction. When she found she could safely stand straight and the bandages kept her ribs in place she moved to the chair by her bedside. It had elvish clothes she remembered from when she was last here, a loose-necked, long-sleeved,  _dark_ shirt with matching pants. She picked up the shirt fit to her size, and curled a lip at it, half a smile and half a grimace. It would cover most of her bandages, but the company would still see the white wrappings over both of her shoulders.

Ayth pulled her hospital clothes off slowly and deliberately to test her range of motion now that she was standing. Unsurprisingly, the elven bandages held out, and she felt the bare minimum of pain she thought was more likely placebo than actual pain. Then she was on her way through the home, using her long rusted memory of the place to find her way to the food court after she noticed the time (midday).

She entered the outdoor dining area barefooted and loose-haired (the elves had undone it to wash it, she already knew), and found her companions in varying degrees of relaxed dress, being tortured by elvish music. She barely passed the threshold of the door when Oin stuffed his hearing aid with a cloth to get away from the music. Ayth snorted at his antics and promptly pressed her hand to her side as it twinged. She made a mental note that the movement of arms was fine, but the contraction of the rib cage was not. She needed to limit her laughter and huffs, which was going to be painfully difficult, no joke intended.

The attention of the company was suddenly on her with her noise, and they stared at her gapingly, for none of them expected her up for a few more days. Ayth stared back for a short time, and then waved shyly, which broke the silence spell. Bilbo up and flung himself from his chair and hugged her as tight as he dared -which was not more than making a circle around her body, but it was the thought that counted. The dwarves cheered and surrounded her with -those who were polite- gentle back pats or bicep squeezes, and -those who were bold- hugs similar to Bilbo’s. Ayth smiled at her companions as she was moved down the line, and only looked around when she noticed three had not greeted her. She found them at a different table, beside Lord Elrond and Gandalf.

Lord Elrond had clearly not changed a day in the eighty years since she’d last seen him; from his pointy ears to his overly handsome pale face to his long black hair. Neither had his choice of pale colored clothing changed in that time, she’d even dare say that was the exact outfit he wore when she left years ago. Beside him was Gandalf, who looked of cleaner wear, though still lacked any and all sense of self-grooming. Besides the two tall folks was Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin, all stiff as boards but attempting to be polite to their host and follow proper etiquette. Their eyes were on her, and she saw each of them were fighting the urge to stand and see to her in respect to the host.

“Ayth, come join us.” Lord Elrond called to her once Kili had finally let her go, and beckoned her over with his hand. She slowly walked over to the table with a hand across her midsection, the only sign of her discomfort. The elf lord stood up as she neared, and bowed low to her. Ayth started at the action, for usually, the newcomer bowed first. Stiffly she bowed back to him as low as her body would allow. When she didn't get as low as she wanted (she could barely bend over her ribs) she dropped her head forward to represent what she wanted. When she stood straight again Elrond inclined his head to the free chair at their table. When she nodded her agreement he pulled out the chair in a gentle manner, like he was trying not to scare her, and waited until she sat down to push her in. Her side stopped its aching as soon as she was down, and she took a deep breath. She was definitely fixed, but not entirely healed. She needed to do what younger her did not and take it easy for a while.

"I see you have made another recovery." Lord Elrond murmured as he passed her a bowl of greens. Ayth grimaced at it but took her fill of greens. Food was food after all.

"The credit for my recovery goes to you and the doctors. Now that immediate danger is gone, let me formally say hello." Ayth answered politely. She placed her hand over her chest in the same way she had for the elf doctors and tipped her head forwards, and this time she murmured an elvish word. Elrond smiled in humor at whatever she said, responded in the same language, and Gandalf turned his head to cough. The three dwarves in company huffed notably, irritated at the words they couldn’t understand and at whatever joke they clearly just missed.

"Vanya says your wounds were more severe than last time: ribs, bruises, and punctures." Elrond divulged, directing it as a question but saying it like a statement in that weird way he did things. Ayth nodded in agreement and slid a glance at Gandalf, silently asking if he told Elrond anything yet. The wizard smiled at her behind his bushy beard, telling her nothing.

"The ribs were from an encounter with mountain trolls the night before we arrived. One managed to get their hands around me and squeezed me hard enough to move my ribs. In the following day, a pack of Orcs riding wargs found us and attacked. I saved a companion from death by shoving a warg off him, and the warg made me its target. Its weight made my ribs worse, and its nails dug into my skin through my clothing and armor. I bled all the way here." She answered easily, though it was known to her companions it was not so easy. Elrond also seemed to know it wasn’t as easy as she made it appear by the way his eyes glanced back and forth between her and Thorin, as if silently reminding her that Thorin had to carry her to the hospice. The two dwarves staunchly ignored that fact, and Elrond pinched his lips tight.

"Speaking of clothes, with that outfit it's almost like you never left. If only your hair was brushed." The Elf Lord said, safely moving on with the tease. Ayth ducked her head to get her hair in front of her face and murmured thanks from behind it, both genuine reaction to the lack of hair restraint and attempting humor in her actions. It was definitely funny to someone because they snickered at her.

"Thank you for keeping the clothing I wore before. I expected it all to be thrown out when I left." She continued, looking back up at her caregiver of two instances. Elrond smiled near kindly at her.

“Of course! My home is always open to you, En’ Atta. We did expect your return to be sooner than eighty years, though.” He answered, jabbing at her airily. Ayt grinned back unapologetically while she put her hair back over her shoulders.

"Pardon my intrusion but what happened last time to have you come here?" Balin budged in, too curious now to hold his question back. Both half-bloods looked at him, and then at each other.

"There are two stories to that,” Ayth began. She waited to see if Elrond wanted to tell it first, but he waved his hand to her to begin it. “The first takes place about a hundred years ago, on the plains of Rohan."

At the other table there was a shuffle, and all the dwarves (and hobbit) pointed their seats at Ayth to listen in, each with a bowl of green food. The three sitting beside her pointed themselves in her direction, giving her all their attention as well. Gandalf leaned over to Elrond and the two began to whisper quietly to each other in Sindarin since they both knew the story already.

"About three years after I left my ruling I found myself wandering the hills of Rohan. I had nothing but a bag of food rations, a few luster gems, coins, my dwarven sword, and my dagger. Back then I was young and dying for the adventures I couldn’t have as a Stripling, and would follow any lead I could for something new. Despite running into a few dangers now and then, I was faring pretty well on my own and was never helpless. At mid-morning that day, I was packing up my camp when I heard the terrified neigh of a horse. I chased after the sound, pleased for the new adventure. I came upon a horse jumping around, trying to avoid some whatnot or another. He was tied to a rock and had a saddle, but there no rider was in sight. I ran to the horse to calm it, and very nearly ran into the snake it was avoiding." Ayth recounted quite easily.

"I jumped over the snake when it snapped at me, and narrowly missed its bite. I released my sword- and I won't go into theatrics about how I fought it for an hour," She continued with a wave of her hand. There were chuckles. "In the end, I did kill it and manage to soothe the tall horse. I walked around, trying to find its rider. I came across a pale elf over the hill nearby; he was unconscious, paler than anyone I'd ever seen, and bleeding from his right hand. I didn't want a dying elf on my hands and to leave a horse with no owner, so I sucked the venom from his wound best I could and wrapped a tourniquet around his elbow for what I couldn't. I stayed with him for two nights and three days; I made sure he was warm at night and drank water regularly throughout the day. On the third night, he woke up."

Ayth’s mouth did a strange grimace/smile as she talked. She remembered the day almost perfectly because of the displeasure she felt for caring for an elf those three days, but there was no fondness or distaste for the memory now. She’d saved someone, it didn’t matter they were an elf. And that elf grew to be a fondness in her memories a few years later.

"His said his name was Lindir, from House Lord Elrond. He thanked me for helping him and offered everything he had in return to pay me for what I did. I turned it all down. The next morning Lindir left, and rode back to Rivendell." Ayth finished then. Many of her companions hung on to her last word, expecting more to be said, for most of her stories were quite long. Then again, she also always gave them flourish and humor, even in the darkest stories; unless she wanted to make them cry, then she made it descriptive and depressing. Elrond didn't let them think about it for long as he started the second story, because he knew what happened next.

"After Lindir returned home he told me of the small dwarf woman who saved his life. He never forgot what she did, and he always wished he could have paid her back, but her dwarven stubbornness didn't allow him to then." The elf began, and the attention of the dwarves latched onto him. Lord Elrond turned a sharp look at Ayth with his words and Ayth smiled half-heartedly and waved a hand at him.

"Ten years later wargs appeared at our borders following Ayth. She was worn out and hadn't properly slept for days. She’d already been on the run before she came across five wargs, and like any other time, she fought till she collapsed. She got three of them by herself before the last two got her. My men and I were on a hunt for the very same wargs when we crossed her path- it was actually her cry of pain that alerted us to her, if we hadn't heard it she might not have survived as well as she is now. We found her with one warg already trying to chew through her armor and bone while the other circled her.” He continued, undescriptive in his explanation. The company could picture the moment Elrond spoke of though. Three of them had seen a scene similar to that just two days prior, and one had shared that story with the rest since then. More than that though, they could imagine how she continued to fight even when down because that's what she did with the trolls and the wargs this time around.

“My men dispatched the remaining wargs and we brought her to our home, where Lindir recognized her upon arrival. He stayed by her side for a week, in bed or wandering the halls, and didn’t leave it for anything except to bathe and eat. Which I can say made Ayth annoyed and just a little bit mad. She wasn't exactly happy to see herself in an elf home and planned to leave as soon as she was able too, but Lindir was as persuasive as she was stubborn. She ended up staying for a decade when a deal was struck between the two of them; use our forge for weapon creation in exchange for her extended stay, wherein which she learned Sindarin and created the long sword and twenty-two daggers across her body she now has. She left us at the end of a decade and didn't pay us a visit for eighty years. Then she appeared battered, bloodied, and bruised yet again on our doorstep, this time with thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard with her." Elrond finished, and he now smiled at Ayth’s pointed look, and waved a hand at her in mirror fashion.

The dwarves smiled cheekily at their mention, and then dissolved into their previous conversations without extra questions for the pair. That was the end of the story, and thus the end of their need to listen to Lord Elrond. If there had been important details for them to know they would have been shared, that was just how Ayth worked.

Finished with the retelling of her prior arrival, Ayth and Thorin quickly got into a conversation about Erebor because of Elrond’s mention of using the forge here. What started out with talking about the dwarven forges became what Thorin could remember of Erebor and what little Ayth knew, with Dwalin putting in a comment every now and then to fact check them. Gandalf and Elrond talked about something that had happened some two thousand years past, and Balin listened with rapt attention. And that was that for that dinner.

* * *

Lindir eventually found Ayth in her room, the same one she’d had eighty years ago. He hadn’t changed since they last met. Not from the length of his black hair to the clasps on his dark cobalt cuffs to the pointed downward expression on his elvenly handsome face that he had on and off duty. His approach was cautious and his expression was severely neutral, but his bow sloped into the territory of friendship. His execution of it was so perfect it left Ayth horribly amused but unable to laugh.

Ayth set aside the book that Ori brought her just a few hours prior, giving Lindir her undivided attention. She twisted her body to be half on and half off the bed so she could lean while she stood, and then she bowed herself over as far as she could to imitate him. It wasn't as far as she wanted, so she tipped her head over until her eyes were pointed at the ground. As often as she considered ignoring the friendship between her and the elf she was aware that it wasn’t something so easily forgotten unless he forgot it. For an immortal, the mortal races bled together from how fleeting they were; they had to actively remember any one person. Lindir once told her that he never tried to remember a mortal’s face longer than was needed of him because of that fact. If he remembered to bow so low to her it meant he chose to remember her and the decade she spent here, which she suspected wasn’t easy for an elf that had been around since the early eve of the Second Age.

“En’ Atta, it is nice to see you once again.” Lindir murmured, proper and respectful. Ayth raised an eyebrow at his use of Elrond’s nickname, and she quirked her lip up at it accusingly. Lindir held his neutral expression for a few seconds longer, then his lips cracked up in a smile.

The two grinned at each other like idiots for several seconds before they both schooled it. Ayth sat back up on the bed, taking the weight off her ribs from her leaning position now that formalities were over, and Lindir walked farther into the room until he stood beside her. Ayth looked up at the elf casually, already once more used to the elves heights, and Lindir stared down at her with an almost amused air as he realized how short she still was. She was slightly taller on the bed than if she’d been standing, but she still only reached his shoulder in height.

“I thought you’d forgotten me. When we arrived your eyes passed over me without a second glance.” She murmured finally. Lindir tipped his head to the side while his eyes roamed her jaw. He turned his gaze to the bed for a moment, then back to Ayth.

“I admit I didn’t recognize you without your ‘identity’. I should have though because you came into our home bloody... Again.” He quipped, an almost-smile across his lips. Ayth gave him a sour look. Boldly, she reached up and grabbed the sleeve of his clothes to make him sit like he wanted to, like they’d done many times all those years ago. She tugged him down beside her, and he fell -gracefully of course- back to lay on the bed.

“What gave it away?” She asked curiously. Lindir laid back a little longer, and then he sat up and faced her.

“Elrond asked if I had gone to visit you yet.” He answered. Ayth nodded along to his words, and she wondered if Elrond asked the question on purpose for him to give Lindir a hint. Despite the elf lord's rather neutral approach and impassive expressions, he oftentimes teased those he was close to without giving that fact away.

“You visited me in the hospice.” She said next, not a question. She remembered waking up to him sitting beside her one of the times Vanya woke her for medicine that first day and a half; he'd been reading a book aloud like he was telling her the story. It'd been a horribly familiar scene to when she woke up in the hospital years ago and he was there because he felt indebted because she saved his life, as well as when she had nightmares so bad she couldn’t sleep so Lindir tried to wake her up before each nightmare could get to her. Ayth had wondered for a split second if she was still young, and not the age she was now when she saw him again, but was quick to dismiss it. If she had been that young she wouldn’t have been able to understand his words in the elven language as he read the book aloud.

“I did.” He agreed. Lindir slid his eyes to her once more, studying her face with a critical eye as he pinpointed the few new things about her. There were new piercings in her ears, he could actually see her jaw now, and there was a new air around her: relaxed, almost. Curiosity piqued him the longer he stared, and he had to ask though he tried to be courteous in his question, “What made you remove your ‘identity’? I asked you for half a decade to remove it and you refused. It was one of the last things I asked of you when you left.”

Ayth looked away from Lindir at the reminder of the stupidity of her younger self and felt the shame crawl up her cheeks like a rash. She remembered the first and last time he asked her; the first time she’d called him fool’s gold, pretending to care as a friend, and the last time she just shook her head no at him. She'd been so sure that he was trying to distance her from her lineage. She was already a friend of elves, why not turn your back on everyone you grew up with by removing the very thing your people pride themselves in? As adamant as he’d been about trying to _protect_ her, she’d been as adamant that he was trying to hurt her.

Turns out he’d been right.

“What you said would happen, did happen.” She murmured, sounding as ashamed as she felt. Lindir froze in his breath, and he turned bodily towards her.

“What happened?” The Second Age elf asked, alarmed.

“Someone tried to forcibly remove it from me. I realized that it wasn’t safe for me to continue to wear it... So I removed it.” She answered. She looked over at the taller (even when sitting) elf, and gave him an apologetic smile, as if that would fix the years she called him evil. Flames burned in his eyes for a split second, and then his expression returned to a neutral one she was still familiar with. “You were right, and I apologize for being so stubborn.”

Lindir didn’t say anything as he continued to stare at her, and the two sat in stilted silence. Ayth waited for him to say something, maybe gloat or accept her apology or even acknowledge she spoke, but he didn’t do any of that. Eventually, Ayth felt his arm around her back and his hand on her shoulder, which pressed softly to the top of her bandages. Her wound still ached at the brush the elf gave her, but she didn't move towards or away with the pain. She knew what he was doing. Lindir accepted her apology.

“Walk with me to the nearby balcony?” Lindir asked in Sindarin. Ayth looked at the door to the outside world, honestly debating the proposition. She could say no, Lindir wouldn’t hold it against her if she did given the circumstances. Or she could say yes and catch up with the elf out in the open air. He may not have physically changed, but he was bound to have new experiences, and she definitely had changed in every way conceivable to her younger self.

“Sure.” She responded in the same language, and Lindir’s cheek twitched at her curled lip in her distaste of _knowing_ elvish. He stood up with surety and offered her his arm to help her keep balanced as they walked. Both in courtesy, and because he knew she could hide her pain well. His help would be her reprieve as they walked the distance needed to get to the nearest foyer.

She grabbed his arm before she stood, and together they walked around to the balcony Lindir chose, talking about their last eighty years since she’d disappeared. Ayth will omit the part about how they talked in Sindarin the whole time.

* * *

After a night's rest in a proper bed Ayth felt only mildly less pained by her wounds. She could lift her arms above her head and roll them forwards a bit more, and when she leaned over in a bow her ribs hurt just a smidge less. She still couldn't do much beyond walk a certain distance (with assistance) now, but every time she did move she was relieved rather than annoyed. The fact she could still move meant she would live.

Eventually, she convinced Nori to walk her to where most of the dwarves congregated when they weren't being bothered by elves. They settled near the fountains, a vantage point in all directions as well as a large enough area they could do what they wanted. A few them were harping on instruments like a proper ensemble, and those who weren't playing instruments were either sitting on the sidelines or dancing. Nori was quick to leave her side when she let go of him, and he pulled a flute from quite literally nowhere as he joined the musical composition comprised of a Bofur on a clarinet, Bombur on a drum, and Dwalin on a Viol. Ayth watched the crowd comprised of Bifur, Ori, Oin, Gloin, Fili, and Kili swing around each other in a disorganized pattern that they called dancing before she crept around them to sit with those who didn't dance: Balin, Dori, and Bilbo. She could only guess that Thorin was away on proper leader business and probably wouldn’t be joining them that afternoon.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Ayth murmured quietly as she sat down beside a torn looking Bilbo who couldn't decide between dancing and staying seated. He visibly jumped at the sound of her voice, and the brilliant grin he graced her with made Ayth's aches worth the walk.

“Well, there's not much else to do,” He responded. They watched Bifur click boots with Fili as they passed each other, which almost made both of them fall. Ayth smiled at the almost drunken display of coordination but withheld from laughing to save herself the pain.

“Sure there is. There's the library, the kitchens, the forge, the hall of histories, plenty of statues too climb, and a great many ledges to dazzle over and almost fall off of.” Ayth ticked off easily with a wave of her hand. Bilbo looked at her with a raised eyebrow at the last one, as if to silently ask if she had actually almost fallen off a ledge once. Ayth didn't dine to respond, which was all Bilbo needed to know the answer.

“I'm... I don't want to intrude on the elves in their home,” Bilbo said as the moment passed, and he looked back at the dwarves. “More than we have already at least.”

“Imladris and its occupants love unhostile visitors of all sorts, even dwarves like our company,” Ayth soothed automatically, familiar with that feeling from her own time here. Mahal knows how curious they all were of her when she showed up. She could walk anywhere and they wouldn't bother her just to see what she'd do. “If I may point you in a direction, this place has been here since the Second Age and holds a lot of the history of our world. I bet that’s your thing: books and comforts?  Probably more than fighting and adventuring is.”

Ayth watched Bilbo reach for his weapon on his hip when she mentioned fighting. It didn't take more than a glance to see how he looked at it like it would bite him. He held the handle loosely in his palm as he adjusted the scabbard to an awkward position on his belt. It was the hall marker for her to know he had no idea how to use it other than that the pointy end is the dangerous side.

“I know what you can do,” Ayth exclaimed suddenly as an idea hit her, and she smiled toothily at Bilbo. He looked back at her, and his face showed all the distrust he had in her right then. “Can you get Dwalin for me?”

The halfling’s face fell into a stricken look at her idea and he looked over at the giant dwarf playing the viol quite elegantly given his terrifying form. Dwalin looked almost peaceful while he played, his eyes were closed as he swayed in time with the beat while his fingers ran along the strings that produced his sound. Bilbo thought he even saw a smile. And Ayth wanted him to go over and stop the giant dwarf.

The hobbit couldn't very well say no to her request because she was still very much wounded even if she was walking around. While she took that knowledge in sliding, it was strange to see her move slow and sit on one of the many benches around the home just to give her ribs a break. Bilbo hadn't heard Ayth laugh in  _five days_ because it caused her pain. To  _laugh_. None of them realized how accustomed they were to her laugh until they no longer heard it. She still told jokes and funny stories, as she proved that morning with breakfast, but she never did more than smile since any jarring movement to her body hurt. Technically she shouldn't be moving at all while her body healed itself, but none of the elves were inclined to say something to her. They knew what she would do if they tried- which is escape and sneak and hide. Just the night prior Thorin had ordered her to stay put in bed for several more days after she came back with Lindir and whatever it was they did. She listened until he was gone and then showed up for breakfast this morning. The defiant stare she gave him was answer enough, and Elrond had  _laughed loudly_ when Thorin explained what he had tried to do.

Bilbo got up and crept over to Dwalin, decided in his answer even if he didn't like it. He got close enough he could hear Dwalin's piece clearly over the others, and he discovered it was... Melodious. Dwalin bounced between the notes that followed the song Bofur and Nori were playing, always a second behind to be an echo. It was like Dwalin was listening to their notes and finding it within the second it took him to play, which was... Impressive. Either that or he knew the song, which was just as likely. Bilbo didn't know what songs the dwarves knew.

“Master Dwalin,” Bilbo murmured as loud as he dared. The fighter dwarf looked over at him with a curiously raised eyebrow instead of the annoyance Bilbo expected, and he felt better about disturbing him. Dawlin continued to play even as his attention was set on Bilbo, and the hobbit decided then he already knew the song. “Ayth wants to talk to you.”

Dwalin stared at him for another second, then looked over at Ayth, and then back to Bilbo.

“I'll be over when the song is done.” The dwarf responded quietly, then turned around to continue his part as an echo. Bilbo nodded in agreement even though Dwalin wasn’t looking and then skedaddled back over to Ayth, who was comfortably leaning in a cushy chair with one arm across her torso, as if to protect it from the outside world.

“Dwalin will be over when he's done with the song,” Bilbo repeated to Ayth. The half dwarf smiled at him cheerily before adjusted herself to a different position. Embarrassment radiated off of her then, and Bilbo cocked his head to the side.

“I know it's rude to ask you to do something else-” Ayth began sheepishly.

“None of that now. You are wounded and went through quite a lot to get this far. If I can be if service, then I will be.” Bilbo cut in before Ayth could continue her statement. The half dwarf looked at Bilbo with surprise before she grinned brighter.

“This one's a bit farther away. My short sword is in my room against the table. I can't walk that distance and then go where I want us to go without multiple pauses, so I'm asking you kindly if you could get it and bring it here. And if we aren't here, we will be at the courtyard, at the back of Rivendell. It’s not hard to miss.” Ayth told him quietly, as if to keep it from the rest of the dwarves. Bilbo's eagerness to help changed to suspicion as his brain made the connection. Dwalin plus Ayth plus sword equaled trouble.

“If you're planning to use the short sword I'm afraid I can't listen to your request,” Bilbo answered, his good-natured attitude turned serious. Ayth waved her hand at him as if to throw his comment away.

“I'm not touching a weapon until I can withstand standing for longer than twenty minutes. This is for something other than me.” She answered honestly, easing Bilbo's thoughts. He agreed to her request then, pleased with that answer.

“I'll see you soon.” He said as he got up to listen to her request.

Ayth sat and waited another few minutes for the song the dwarves played to end, and spent that time watching the dancing dwarves tangle themselves in knots that somehow never quite fell. She was sure Ori was going to topple head to heels when Gloin lifted him high in the air, but the poet turned out to be quite adept at staying on his feet when tossed.

When the number finished Dwalin set aside his instrument while Bofur and Nori switched tunes to a more waltzy sound, and Balin swooped in and picked up where his brother left off. Dwalin walked around the crowd of dancing dwarves until he was beside the suddenly very tiny half dwarf, and he carefully crouched down to be on her level. He didn't know what to do or how to approach her now that she looked smaller than normal. Ayth was usually large in personality even while small in size, which made it easy for Dwalin to saddle in beside her and bump shoulders normally, but now Dwalin wasn't sure he could touch her without causing her undue pain.

“I need you to help me with a job,” Ayth whispered first and foremost when Dwalin got comfortable. The warrior dwarf raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he looked around for the hobbit she'd sent his way earlier. The tiny creature was nowhere to be found, which made Dwalin more curious.

“By helping you mean doing the labor for you right?” Dwalin asked finally. Ayth smiled cheekily at him and bobbed her head up and down. He shrugged in response, which she took to mean was a yes.

“Great! We need to go to the courtyard. Have you been there yet? It's a large space of earth that is under the sunshine. It's surrounded by the trees and pillars of this home.” Ayth explained. Dwalin nodded yes fairly quickly to that description. He and Dori had found it two days prior when they were scoping out the home. Granted they found it because they were horribly lost, but he still knew what she was talking about.

“Then help me get there. Bilbo will meet us there.” Ayth ordered. She made to stand and Dwalin rose and stepped away to give her room. He put his hands out to catch the half dwarf in case she fell at any point in the rising process. She, remarkably, hadn't fallen yet in the day she's been awake, and he doubted she ever would, but there could always be the slimmest of chances she might, and Thorin would have his piercings if he let Ayth fall in this state.

In spite of his concern, Ayth did rise steadily to her feet, without any problems. She then smiled at the giant dwarf, who stared back with an expression that said he didn't know what he was supposed to be doing. Ayth reached out to him, wrapped her arm around his forearm, and gently began tugging him. Dwalin followed that line of thought well now that he was directed, and the two walked to the main yard Ayth wanted to get to so badly.

Once they got there Ayth had him help her sit by one of the pillars, and then it was a silent waiting game for them. They'd look at each other occasionally like they expected a conversation to happen every now and again, but one never started. They never realized how little they knew about each other until neither could come up with something to talk about. For all their fighting and new scars that'll be gone within the month, they'd never actually _talked_ about anything that wasn't a group conversation. Now that they were alone, what was there to talk about?

“So... I've been curious about something for a bit now,” Dwalin began finally, and Ayth looked at him expectantly. “Who taught you how to fight? I've seen how you move and I've gotten first hand experience to a lot of what you can do, but I've never been able to pinpoint the origin of where you learned it.”

“Oh, well that’s fairly easy to explain. I was taught swords by my dad in my earliest Stripling years, and the walk across Middle Earth to my home after Erebor made me a decent fighter in blades. Then I picked up axes and mastered them with my father and the local weapons master, a Man named Tepher Dalles. Tepher would later show me how he fought with a sword, and I learned some more from him. When I started fighting orcs regularly I noticed specific moves and strategies they used and started incorporating them into my arsenal against them. I picked up the daggers just a year or two after I became queen and learned the ability pretty much entirely from Tepher, plus whatever I could make out of it myself. When I got here, to the home of the elves, I roped Elrond into training me in the elven forms of fighting with all three weapons- though they aren’t the biggest about axes. Elrond had me trade in my want for ax training for bow and arrow practice instead.” Ayth answered easily. Dwalin nodded along as she spoke, and her explanation fit everything he and the others had thought about. Maybe not the specifics like the who or when, but they were mostly right about the species she took form from.

“Would you mind showing me some of the orc moves you've learned once you're better?” Dwalin asked politely, too curious not to ask. Ayth gave a vicious smile in return, which was her silent  _yes_.

Bilbo came walking around the corner not a second later with the short sword Ayth had asked for in hand. His own new weapon was on his belt behind him, where it bounced on his leg every two steps. The two dwarves looked at Bilbo, and Dwalin stood up.

“Here. Your sword.” Bilbo huffed, a bit winded from carrying a dwarven weapon. He held the sword out between the two of them for either of them to take because he wasn't sure who it went too. Dwalin turned a surprised eye to Bilbo, and then a suspicious one to Ayth. If she thought he would fight her anytime soon...

“Hush. Dwalin take the sword. Both of you go stand like twenty feet away from me.” Ayth ordered them both. Bilbo looked over at her, confused, while Dwalin suddenly got what she was going for. He quickly grabbed the offered weapon from Bilbo and held it comfortably at his side as he prowled out to the open air, ready to humor the half dwarf in this farce of teaching a hobbit to fight. Bilbo followed behind him though he maintained a distance from the giant dwarf.

“Now, you’re probably wondering why I brought you here today,” Ayth began jokingly. Dwalin and Bilbo looked at her, and then at each other on separate sides of the main yard.

“I think it’s obvious. You gave me your short sword and Bilbo has his letter opener here.” Dwalin answered, and he raised the weapon he mentioned like it proved his point. It helped Bilbo realize what was happening, and he paled considerably. When Ayth said she thought of something he could do he did not think she meant fighting. She had made a very clear statement that said she thought fighting was one of the least liked things by Bilbo, and she had been  _right_. So how did they get here?

“You mean... You want me to _fight_ Dwalin?” He half shrieked. The poor hobbit had seen the fights between Ayth and Dwalin (and both of them against others of the group), and there were things he’d seen them do that he never thought was possible. Like how Dwalin had charged Ayth with both of his war axes out for her, and how she brought her long sword up to catch both of them  _easily_ before she promptly went between Dwalin’s arms and punched him. Or that time when Nori and Ayth got into a dagger fight to see who was quicker, and he watched what he still thinks to this day is magic. Ayth had Nori’s right arm locked in by his elbow against her chest, and Nori switched to his left arm to continue the fight. Ayth reached up to block his wrist with hers, and then suddenly Ayth was bowled over at the waist with Nori’s right arm against the back of her neck with the hilt of his dagger against her head. How Nori got his arm from her elbow to her head still boggled Bilbo's mind whenever he thought about it.

“Not fight. Train. From what I've heard, Dwalin is a guardsman and trainer back in Ered Luin. H’s used to showing newbies the ropes of weapon play, and I saw you flounder with the trolls and orcs, not a weapon on you. I also notice that you hold your new weapon like at any moment it will bite you, which means you are in no way qualified to hold it, let alone use it. I would teach you myself, but-” Ayth finished with a wave to her front side, still very obviously bandaged even behind her clothes.

“You haven’t even been awake a full twenty-four hours and you’re already making me do work.” Dwalin snorted. Still, he held the sword she gave him a bit more strongly and began moving with it to get a handle before he tried teaching the hobbit anything. It wouldn’t do to teach a parry only to hit Bilbo’s bicep because he didn’t realize how long the sword was.

“I’ve seen how the two of you ‘train’ against each other and others. I don’t even think I could move that fast on my own, let alone move with a weapon.” Bilbo said, a smidge calmer but still loud enough to be considered shrieking. Mostly it was that Bilbo hadn’t ever planned to get near enough to Dwalin to stand beside him; the dwarf was  _massive_ in all directions, and terrifying to boot. Now Ayth wanted him to be in close quarters with Dwalin, _training_ with a weapon Bilbo never thought he would see let alone use.

“Dwalin and I have been fighting since before we were Striplings, some one hundred and fifty years ago. We don’t need to be slow or careful because of our experience. If I had to guess, you've only ever swung a stick at your friends in a mock fight when you were kids. The two are radically different, thus Dwalin is going to go slow with you. It’s unlikely you’ll be fighting up to our speed until we reach Erebor, even if you’re trained daily.” Ayth answered easily and calmly. Bilbo looked at her like she’d sent him to his death, and then over at Dwalin, who was swinging his borrowed blade around and doing a very good job at proving Ayth wrong about the definition of slow.

“I don’t trust him,” Bilbo whispered, attempting to keep Dwalin from hearing. It didn’t work, Dwalin did hear him, but he took it in sliding. A lot of people didn’t trust him, he’d long since learned not to take offense to their ignorance.

“You don’t have to trust him, you just have to listen to him. You can trust me to be here for every session you want me to be to make sure he doesn’t treat you unfairly though.” Ayth soothed, and her soft smile was one of honesty.

Bilbo felt conflicted then. The Baggins’ side of him was saying to put his sword down and walk away because no proper hobbit would learn to  _fight_ with  _swords_ , while his Took side was almost agreeing because it’s  _swords_ and  _fighting_ and  _adventure_. Bilbo also now knew he needed to know how to fight. They’d gone up against three trolls and now they knew they were being tracked by orcs. Someday soon Bilbo might have to fight, as much as he hated the idea, and the dwarves wouldn't always be there to help him. Ayth was just looking out for him having him trained. Not to mention the _dragon_ that could be alive in the mountain that he was to face since he was the Company’s Burglar.

At Bilbo’s shrugged answer of yes Ayth signaled Dwalin to walk up. In an instant, Dwalin stood up to his tallest, put his borrowed weapon in the grass, and walked over to Bilbo. The hobbit’s neck kept bending backward as Dwalin got closer, and Bilbo realized he succeeded in never actually standing near Dwalin until now. He was massive in height and width where Thorin or Bombur could never compete, though Thorin was taller and Bombur was wider. Bilbo was very clearly outmatched in every way with the dwarf that now stared down at him.

Dwalin, on the other side of the spectrum, was realizing just how short the hobbit was. Ayth’s nickname of ‘Three-Foot’ now made sense where it hadn’t before. Bilbo Baggins was inches shorter than the shortest dwarf, Ori, who was four foot. Perhaps he was an entire foot shorter than Dwalin himself, who was second tallest in their company. His much shorter frame matched his much more lithe form, which also was smaller than Ori despite the roundness of his middle. He’d wager Bilbo was thinner than Ayth, who had been named ‘The Toothpick Dwarf’ by Bifur and Nori in the first week of their journey thanks to Gandalf’s poorly placed size ratio the night they met.

“Pull out your weapon,” Dwalin told the tiny creature. Bilbo looked at Ayth one more time for assurance, then did as told. He held it in his right hand in what he hoped was an acceptable position, though he did point it outwards so it didn’t cut his clothes somehow.

“Swing it,” Dwalin ordered after he gave Bilbo a few seconds to hold his blade. Bilbo looked at him hesitantly, and then he swung his arm across his body. “Good. Now harder.”

Bilbo listened to Dwalin, and he didn’t mention that he felt rather stupid to be swinging the sword around with no intention to hit anything. Swinging a sword was only part of the battle, you also had to hit something, and he wasn't hitting anything. Maybe Dwalin was teaching him how to swing properly? Bilbo didn’t think there was much tact in swinging from what he’d seen in the past, but perhaps there was.

Dwalin walked around Bilbo to his backside, and Bilbo showed a lot of trust in allowing the giant dwarf out of his eyesight while supposedly training him. He waited for whatever Dwalin would do, and glanced at Ayth once more for help. She watched on with a critical eye, not a hint of a smile on her face or a humorous glint in her grey eyes. He took comfort in that. If Ayth was serious than perhaps Dwalin would act serious too.

“A weapon is an extension of your arm,” Dwalin began, and his hand appeared around Bilbo’s side. He snatched the blade from Bilbo’s hand with a quick jerk, leaving Bilbo empty handed, and he almost made a fuss. “When you swing your arms, how are your legs?”

“My legs?” Bilbo chirped back, stopped in his tracks by the question. He looked down at his legs. They were rather parallel to his shoulders, and straight and proper like any hobbit should be. “Well, I supposed they’re straight.”

“Place your feet together,” Dwalin ordered, and he came back around to face Bilbo. The hobbit did as told, he pressed his feet together and stood up straight and proper. Dwalin looked over his form for a second and then nodded to himself. “Keep them together and swing your arm like you did when you held the sword.”

Bilbo looked at the dwarf in confusion before listening to his command. He swung his arm across his body uselessly and felt himself tip. He moved his foot forward to catch his fall, and Dwalin had an expression that said Bilbo had done exactly what he wanted. Which was a good thing?

“When you swing your arms your body takes into account your balance. Your stance changes when you move so you don’t tip over as you did just now,” Dwalin explained shortly. Bilbo nodded, and he felt like he knew where this was going. “Spread your feet until your ankles line up with your shoulders, and then keep your knees and back straight.”

Bilbo followed that order much quicker, and while he felt a little stupid and overly prim, he also felt like if he swung his arm around his body again he’d stay balanced.

"Swing your arm _behind_ you as if you were hitting someone with your sword.” Dwalin now told him. Bilbo took a second to consider the new order, and then followed it. He swung his arm around behind him, and he felt his shoulder tweak and side stretch with the motion. He stayed standing and didn’t topple though, so that was already a plus.

“Most movements you make are fluid, not rigid. Whether you move forwards or backward something in your body gives. When your knees are locked into a straight position you can’t rock as easily, and when your spine is straight you can’t rotate as easily. You could live your life like that, but it’s not recommended you fight like that. Shake out your limbs, loosen your joints.” Dwalin murmured. Bilbo pulled a face at the strange order, and then stood on one foot and shook his lifted leg a little. He repeated it with his other leg, feeling stupid once more. Then he shook his upper body like he was shaking water off. Dwalin never stopped looking at him with that sharp gaze, and Ayth never looked beyond a critical eye, so Bilbo could only assume things were still going right.

“Widen your feet until your ankles are in line with your elbows in their resting position. Then bend your knees a bit, and lean over your waist a smidge,” The large dwarf ordered. This one Bilbo took a second to follow and get all the specs down, but once he did it he found the position was very similar to the pose he made when he was sneaking. Bent over, small, and easy to turn on the dime. Dwalin hummed, “Put your dominant foot forwards a little and find a comfortable lean.”

Bilbo followed the extra command and rocked on his feet for a moment. He adjusted himself until he didn’t feel like he would tip over. He waited for Dwalin. The giant dwarf walked over to him once again, and then he kneeled in front of the hobbit. Bilbo stared straight at Dwalin’s terrifying and yet strangely friendly face, and Dwalin stared back casually.

“Resist me,” Dwalin commanded suddenly. Bilbo stared wide-eyed at this new and very strange order, tense as he waited for whatever the giant dwarf was about to do.

Dwalin lifted one of his large hands up and placed it against Bilbo’s chest. He pushed, and Bilbo felt it, but his back leg didn’t let him move. Dwalin smiled briefly to let Bilbo know that was good, and then he pushed again, harder. Bilbo felt the pressure more that time, and he dug his ankle more solidly into the ground. Dwalin pushed a third time, sharper and harder, and Bilbo leaned back, but he didn’t fall. The dwarf changed where he pressed to Bilbo’s shoulder and repeated the process. Each time Bilbo held back against it, and if something ever felt off he adjusted and held steady. By the time Dwalin was done testing his stance, Bilbo thought he had it down pat, and he was feeling rather confident in this maneuver. Then Dwalin stood.

“Sword arm up,” Dwalin ordered, and Bilbo looked up at the giant dwarf once more. He lifted his arm a little, not sure how high he was supposed to put it. Dwalin reached down and pulled it until it was over his forehead, several inches away from his skull. Bilbo held it there and waited for whatever Dwalin was about to do, and he shuffled nervously.

The warrior pressed his hand against Bilbo’s slowly so the hobbit knew what he was doing, and then he pressed down. Bilbo’s body and form withstood the force easily even as Dwalin pressed down harder and harder. Eventually, Bilbo’s arm  _did_ move from the amount of force Dwalin exerted on him, but his body and balance never did. Dwalin seemed happy with that result when he nodded and let go of Bilbo’s hand. He moved Bilbo’s arm to point up beside his shoulder, parallel to his head now, and there he repeated the increased pressure. Bilbo tilted on his feet that time, but with a little rotation of his heels, he withstood it. When his arm began to move again Dwalin stopped.

“Very good. This right here, this stance, is important. It’s your defensive pose. When someone comes at you with a weapon, you need to be able to take the hit without falling from it. Standing up straight will never save you,” Dwalin explained easily, and Bilbo smiled at the praise. He mentally wrote down where his body was and filed it for the future training experiences he would no doubt have. “It’s also the start of your offense pose. When you move forward or backward or need to turn quickly, this pose allows you that ability.”

Bilbo mentally put that down as well. Now that he knew there was a standard fight stance, and that this was his, Bilbo could see the similar poses across all the dwarf fights he watched. Each dwarf held themselves differently, but they all had the slightly bent knees and parted legs. Whenever one of them couldn't assume that position they’d been knocked down, and he'd never noticed such a minute detail because he didn't know to look for it. Now that he knew he was a little less terrified by what he saw. Suddenly he wondered if you could figure out someone's entire fight plan just based on how they held their body.

“Repeat this pose with your dominant foot behind you now,” Dwalin told him, and Bilbo shuffled his body around. Dwalin ran him through the same circuit of tests so Bilbo could get his stance down in every which way, which took quite some time, but by the end of it, Bilbo felt confident about himself. Dwalin also seemed decently happy about his progress, and Ayth was smiling a little now.

“Here,” Dwalin said, and from around his back came Bilbo’s sword. Bilbo took it cautiously, and now that it was in his grasp he didn’t know where it was supposed to go. By his side? Pointed down? Behind him? His pose didn’t tell how he held the blade.

“Press the side of the blade against your leg like you would your hand,” Dwalin said suddenly. Bilbo’s eyes flew wide open and he looked at the dwarf like he was insane. Dwalin leveled him a glare bad enough that Bilbo listened to him just to escape it. The side of the blade rested against his knee carefully, and Bilbo looked at it, terrified he’d make the wrong move and cut something. Dwalin watched him for a long second, and then he sighed. “Look back at me.”

Bilbo looked up at Dwalin, and he was painfully aware of where the blade was and where it pressed. The giant dwarf walked over and grabbed Bilbo’s wrist then. The hobbit stayed looking at the dwarf even when he began to move the sword along his leg, too scared to look away and too scared to look at the sword. It moved down to his ankle where it touched his bare skin, up to his hip where it pointed out behind him, then across his stomach and up to his chest, and then along his back from neck to rump. Bilbo’s arm and blade dutifully followed Dwalin’s hand, and eventually, Bilbo realized what Dwalin was trying to do. The sword wouldn’t hurt him just because it was a weapon. He had to have intent before it could hurt. He could place it anywhere on his body and he’d be safe so long as his hand was on the handle and the intent wasn’t to harm.

When Dwalin felt Bilbo start moving on his own he let go of his wrist. Bilbo stopped where his blade pressed (along his opposite shoulder), and looked at the giant dwarf for directions on what to do next. Dwalin nodded for him to keep moving, and Bilbo started up again, slower now than before. It wasn’t long before Bilbo felt confident enough to run the sharp weapon over the back of his head, along the crown of his head, and then down his cheek. That move was like a signal to Dwalin, who smiled rather brilliantly at him suddenly. Bilbo smiled back on reaction, and then the realization that Dwalin had actually smiled at  _him_ sunk in, and he smiled brighter. He now understood on a more personal level what Dwalin meant when he said the blade was an extension of his arm. It was a literal extension, a dangerous one but an extension no less. It was something Bilbo had complete control of, just like his hand. And just like his hand, he had to understand it in order to successfully use it without topping head over heels or hurting himself when he moved.

“Now hold the blade over your head like when I pressed on your arm,” Dwalin ordered, gentle with the three foot now. Bilbo listened easily and held the weapon over himself. He looked up at the gleaming silver of the blade he now trusted a bit more, and then back at Dwalin, who snatched up the leather cord Ayth threw at him (that she'd used to keep her hair up until that point). He wrapped it around his hand a few times for protection from what he was about to do next. Dwalin didn't think Bilbo was ready for another blade in this equation yet, so he was using his hand for pressure practice.

Once finished protecting his palm Dwalin brought his hand over Bilbo's head and placed it on the blade. Bilbo readied himself for the pressure and with a nod from the hobbit, the dwarf began to press down. Bilbo's blade moved down a smidge from the force before he gripped it tighter to hold off the large dwarf. He pressed up into Dwalin's hand, and Dwalin moved with it. The trainer maintained the pressure on the blade with one while he brought his other hand around to point something out.

“Don't use your elbow to hold it up when guarding,” Dwalin said, and he tapped Bilbo’s wrist. “Use your wrist and forearm, just like before when I pressed on your hand, and keep it in line with the hilt. Your elbow is swinging power, your wrist is leverage. Don’t exhaust your swings to guard.”

Bilbo nodded once, short and curt, and shifted the balance to his wrist best he could. Dwalin pressed down again, harder and harder until Bilbo's elbow started to bend, but Bilbo kept his wrist in line with the hilt now. Dwalin eventually nodded in satisfaction, and Bilbo moved his arm to the side, where they repeated the practice. Around and around Bilbo’s body they went until Dwalin had covered all the main angles in defense, and then he pulled away with an exaggerated nod. Bilbo waited for Dwalin’s next order, almost eager for it now. The dwarf took off the leather cord (which now had grooves in it) and gave it back to Ayth. She looked over the grooves for weak points, then used the leather to pull her hair back up into a ponytail.

“I think that settles today,” Dwalin said, half a statement and half a question to Ayth, who had started this whole thing. Ayth waved her hand back to him, silently telling him it was his decision from here on out when they finished. Bilbo’s arm dropped, and he looked on in dismay.

“But we haven’t even brought up your sword!” Bilbo exclaimed, pointing at the dwarven weapon still on the ground. Ayth smiled at his words, and she looked at Dwalin, who looked like he couldn’t decide whether to smile or sigh. He stared back at Bilbo for long seconds, and then let his head fall back so he could stare at the sky.

“I figured you would still be too hesitant to have a blade coming at you,” Dwalin answered, a silent reminder to when Bilbo had looked absolutely terrified when Dwalin had held the weapon. Bilbo opened his mouth to retort, and then clamped it shut when he thought about it. Dwalin was right, he'd been absolutely  _terrified_ at having a blade come at him. That was before he saw how patient Dwalin was as a teacher, before he felt safe holding his new sword (which was against his thigh in rest position), and before he found he enjoyed the feeling of achieving something he had to learn and work for.

“Well, that was before I knew all of this. Now that I do... I’d like to at least _try_ it.” Bilbo responded finally. Ayth smiled much brighter at Bilbo then, and Dwalin looked at him with something Bilbo wanted to say was pride. It was a reaction Bilbo didn’t expect, but he was happy about it all the same.

“How about we go until you call a quits?” Dwalin offered, a bit more eager for this side of training. Now that he could bring a weapon into the equation the things he could teach Bilbo were boundless. His only limit was how much Bilbo could take, or how long it took for their stomachs to grumble.

“I’d like that actually. Very much.” Bilbo said with a chipper voice and none of the old hesitation he had. He bobbed his head sternly at Dwalin like that proved his statement, and Dwalin raised an eyebrow back at the hobbit, amused.

“Before you guys go on for however long you want, can one of you help me up so I can go find a place to lay down?” Ayth chirped for the first time in over an hour. The two looked at her when she spoke, and Dwalin was instantly by her side. He picked Ayth up gently by her hands and kept an arm on her until he was sure she could walk on her own. As soon as Ayth could move without wobbling she left the pair to themselves in the courtyard.

Dwalin walked over to Bilbo slowly, maintaining eye contact while he pulled Ayth’s short sword out of its scabbard. Bilbo watched him with a fairly optimistic and curious expression, and Dwalin smiled. Maybe there was something to this hobbit.

* * *

When Ayth was finally able to stand and walk without a constant ache in her side the first thing she did was steal Bilbo and Ori away from the group and deep into the home of the elves: the laundry room. Ori quickly found himself staining elf clothes with dyes Ayth had found  _somewhere_ in the home of pastel everything. He had a tub of what he was told was maroon colored dye (it looked black), and was stirring an elven shirt in it with a long spoon. Bilbo was beside Ayth just a foot away, leaning over a dark blue shirt she’d already dyed, which was the only reason Ori thought this would work. He listened in on their conversation for the time being, unsure on if he was allowed to put in his own comments just yet.

“You want to stitch Khuzdul words into these?” Bilbo asked once Ayth was finished explaining and pointed around the three of them at the fourteen sets of elven nightclothes she laid out, all still white. Ori looked around at the clothes he'd seen when they entered but hadn't given a second thought to, wondering if he should be offended she would use Khuzdul words on elven clothes or laugh because she would mark elven clothes in such a way.

“Yes, and I need your help to stitch all these words properly. I’m afraid I’m not perfect at stitching beyond fixing tears, while you have mentioned many a time of your cross stitch work. You can teach Ori and me if you think we're capable, or you can do it yourself, whichever you want.” She answered Bilbo. Ori wondered what he was doing here if she needed someone who could stitch. He could knit together almost anything, but stitch work wasn't his greatest ability. Dying clothes shouldn’t be that hard either.

“Well, thank you.” The hobbit said, a little surprised and taken aback. He didn't think any of them listened when he spoke of his needling ability since none of them ever pried for more information. He also didn't think any of them would use his ability to create something for them. They weren’t exactly a fine lined bunch beyond the bold stitchings in some of their clothes.

“Pardon me,” Ori managed to brave and butt in. The two looked over at him, and it was only Ayth’s curious look that helped him continue his comment. “What am I doing here?”

Ayth made an ‘Ah!’ face, rose up from her seat, and went over to Ori. He made to move out of her way, but she stopped him by placing a hand over his shoulder. She sat down beside the young dwarf with only a little hindrance from her side and waved her hand at the pot of maroon dye and elven clothes. Ori, not knowing what to do with the suddenly uplifted half dwarf, lifted the cloth out of the pot, where all three saw a nice, dark, red shirt.

So it did work.

“You have a remarkable eye for beauty and colors that no other in our company has,” Ayth started, and the offhand compliment made a blush skyrocket to Ori’s hairline. “And a no doubt creative mind to go with it. I was hoping you would aid me in colors for each of our company members, either based on family colors or what colors you see fit the dwarf and hobbit individually. I also wanted you to help me pick complementing colors for the stitching so what is written is noticeable, _or not noticeable_ , depending on the company member. And if Bilbo is willing to teach us and you want to, you can help with the stitch work itself.”

Ori sat there for a moment, willing away the tomato color now staining his skin. So that was what he was for. He was picked for his talent in something others called ‘Not Dwarven’, and praised for it at the same time. He wondered when she caught on to his love of colors and beauty, and then he wondered if she ever looked inside his notebook to see some of what he saw. He highly doubted she did. Ayth understood when others wanted to keep secrets, and she kept plenty of her own as well, so there was no way she looked through his journal without asking first. Which meant she had  _listened_ whenever he made comments about the trees or a bird or the setting sun.

“I-I can do that.” He stuttered out eventually, and he went back to stirring the clothes with a new purpose. He started thinking about which of their companions fit the color maroon, and then what the others of the company colors should be. He already knew what three of them would be; the Durin's would be blue, Bilbo would be green or yellow, and Dori would green or brown.

Ayth squeezed Ori's shoulder for another second, and then she stood up gingerly once more. She went over to the door of the laundry room and looked around for several seconds to see if anyone was headed their way. The resounding click of a door brought the focus of both men back to her. Ayth turned around to face them and pressed her back against the door, a shy grin befitting a young dwarf and not a full grown one across her face.

“We have until Thorin tells us to pack to do all of these, and I need to know you can keep quiet about this little project, because if not, I will have to remove you,” She said, sounding at her happiest right there even as her expression became serious. Both men were quick to nod, and were rewarded with a wider grin. “Brilliant! Let’s get started.”

* * *

On an evening two weeks into their stay Ayth found Thorin alone on one of the numerous balconies that were part of Elrond's home. She’d managed to finally escape the clutches of Doctor Oin, the elves of the home were busy with whatnots, and she didn't feel like loud music and laughter that evening. She  _still_ couldn't laugh much, despite that she no longer wore braces or bandages and she could walk for a time now without aching, but it was hard not to do exactly that when the dwarves were doing funny and dumb things. Like swimming in the fountains and dancing drunk on elf wine. So she walked the home she still had memorized, just to wander around until something caught her eye. Like a dwarf king, unaccompanied and alone for the first time that she knew of.

Ayth audibly paused when she saw him against a balcony ledge, and if he heard her foot scuffle he didn't turn to look. She watched him at first to see how he was, then she tried to figure out if he wanted to be approached without asking him. Besides their casual meal conversations and mutual amusement of his company, they hadn’t really talked since they got here. Thorin was a dwarf king that was busy with elf lords and wizards, and Ayth was a wounded half dwarf that was busy with doctors and catching up with history. The fact Thorin was alone now felt like a miracle, and the fact Ayth wasn't being tailed was a surprise.

The first thing she noticed that was new about Thorin was that he was barefoot, since his heels showed from the hem of his pants. Then she saw he wasn’t wearing his armor. Instead, he was in the long sleeve, dark blue shirt he wore under the armor, one she'd never seen more of beyond the collar and arm. Habitually, she checked for a weapon to see if he was protected without his plated armor but found nothing that said so. His state of dress plus his lack of protection and that he didn't turn around from her noise told her a lot about what he thought of the elf home, and secretly, she was pleased. And a little relieved.

When she walked just a little closer she saw Thorin was comfortably leaning against the balcony fence, at ease with his surroundings. He watched the night sky as if lost in thought in a faraway place instead of worried about the moment. It was a comfort level Ayth had never seen in the dwarf since their quest started, and she liked the lack of stress lines across his face. She crossed the rest of the distance to stand beside him, and then looked out to see what he saw. The balcony overlooked the cliff faces and waterfalls, just shy of the river that ran by the home. It was beautiful and unchanging, exactly as she remembered eighty years ago, and Ayth understood why her younger self lost time here for so many years. When nothing ages, how do you track the time?

She leaned on the balcony with Thorin, half to let him know she was there and half to relax her posture to give her ribs a break. She found a peace she remembered from the evening of the trolls, when she and Thorin had stared out at the sky and spoke of her father. When they were just travel companions slowly learning more about each other as the time passed, unhindered by wounds and woes. Ayth felt like they knew more about each other now than ever before, despite that they hadn't really spoken in two weeks. It was probably because of all that transpired their first day here. Thorin watched her get brought back from a close death, thanked her for what she did, and held her hand as she fell asleep. Those actions spoke more than any words they could have ever said, and Ayth still felt the comfort and warmth from his hand when she thought about it.

Thorin glanced at Ayth when he noticed her, a bit startled to see it was the half dwarf herself instead of one of his dwarves. He looked over her to see how she was healing like he did every chance he got, and he took a brief second to smile at the fact that she chose to lean instead of sit like she had for the last two weeks. He never got the time to privately ask how she was doing, and could only ever get information on her from those who spoke to her- basically everyone but him. Now that they were alone and not pressed for time, he could see with his own eyes that she was breathing and moving easier. She still wore loose (dark) elf clothes, but he noticed a distinct lack of distention around her ribcage and shoulders that was always noticeable before.

“Hello,” Thorin murmured formally, unable to think of a better way to start the conversation. In the past they just started talking about whatnots or they asked a question to get things going, but Thorin couldn’t think of anything like that now, so he stuck with formality. Ayth graced him with an amused smile, to which Thorin shrugged because he didn't have anything better to say about his start. She looked back out into the open space shortly after and waved her hand non-committedly at one of the many ledges on the cliffs across from them.

“I climbed that rock face once, just to scare Lindir,” She told him suddenly. Thorin looked over at the waterfalls and cliff wall, and he spent a moment seeing it. An Ayth half the age she was now, climbing the precarious wall of sharp wet rock just to sit back and relax once she was where she wanted to be. He didn’t know whether she was in the clothes she wore now or in her regular travel clothes, but both painted a funny picture in his head. “He spoke about the elf guards on the premises and how their home was protected on all fronts. So I climbed the wall, _after_ I told the guards what I was doing, and threw rocks at him whenever I saw him just to prove a point.”

Thorin chuckled. The idea of Ayth holding a pebble in her hand and sitting for hours just to throw it at the elf was a funny image, and the small, tightly wound knot of nerves in his stomach unwound itself. Just like the rest of the company members, he’d missed her stories and her constant near-cheery attitude. The silencing of her laughter was a bleak reminder of how close they’d been to losing her, and the fact that laughing without her felt strange showed how hard it would have been for the company had they actually lost her.

Thorin looked back over at their resident half dwarf and watched her smile fondly at the yard before them. It was a nostalgic smile, similar to the ones he made whenever his nephews did something that reminded him of their kidhood. It hinted to Thorin that this place was more than just a stead for Ayth in her younger years, as she’d encouraged them to believe. She waved her hand at the foyer on the ground before them, and Thorin looked down at it, where a few elves wondered the area.

“I got my butt handed to me by Elrond down there when I asked him to teach me elven swordsmanship. He gave me an hour to fight him so he could see how I worked, and then when he started “training” me he had me flat on my ass within fifteen seconds. And he repeatedly put me back on the ground for  _days_ before I was able to fight back longer than a minute... What he was teaching me before anything else was patience and  _watching_ before I attacked, which as a young dwarf was... A hard lesson. Once I learned it and began watching my opponents before attacking it got easier to fight back, and by the time I was back in the real world, I had indoctrinated it into my fight system. After I learned the first lesson he taught me just about all he knew with swords, and when I left ten years later I could fight him rather well. I’ve never beaten him, and probably never will, but I could withstand his attacks for a good while.” Ayth said easily, as if reminiscing a fond memory. Her tone confused Thorin more than it amused him then. He couldn’t imagine being beaten by an elf for years would be a fond memory. It must have annoyed her to pieces that she couldn’t get Elrond to stay down, and yet she smiled at the foyer below them like it was a time she enjoyed.

“That explains your patience when fighting now, as well as some of your attacks,” Thorin answered just to say something, and he adjusted himself to point more towards Ayth. She looked at him with a strange smile, where her lips turned up but her cheeks didn’t pinch with them. Thorin stared back, wondering what she was silently trying to convey. She looked and pointed to their right after a few seconds, along the walls of the home. Thorin looked at where she pointed and saw some of the other balconies of the home.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve almost fallen off these ledges. I would fall asleep on the ground in front of them, walk the edges in a challenge of balance, or an elf would almost scare me off them because of how quiet they can be. The most prominent memory I have is when I was walking the edge of one without a railing and Aimer said something to get my attention. I hadn't seen or heard him and just about jumped out of my skin when he spoke. I jumped  _off_ the edge and only just barely caught myself before I fell to the water below. Aimer almost lost his head from how sorry he was and he practically begged me not to tell Lindir.” Ayth explained gently, almost amusedly. Thorin turned back to her with a raised eyebrow at the story, and Ayth shrugged, like that explained anything.

Thorin just learned a lot about Ayth in the short time span of her recountings. Far more than he ever learned with her longer stories, which could take hours to find details about her from. That was mostly because the stories she usually told were about other people she knew, what they did and how her time with them went. Their stories painted a picture of her in those moments, and he'd learned things about her that way (she’d been a terrible student when younger and once bit an orc to make it let go of her companion), but he never learned about her  _directly_. Like that she was apparently a risk taker when younger, climbing wet rocks and casually walking next to a ledge without railing; or that she was friendly with the elves of this home, she climbed a rock face to throw rocks at Lindir and she casually mentioned an elf he’d yet to meet; and that she was actually rather fond of this place and all her memories of it, like willingly getting beat repeated by an elf, and that she casually _fell asleep_ on balconies, open to anyone who saw her.

She spoke about something Thorin never put much thought into. Ayth had stayed here for  _ten years_. She had a dwarven shaped longsword made of elf metal and she spoke the elven language, Sindarin, better than ‘make and retain conversations with minimal issue’. He’d heard stories from Fili about Ayth sitting in various places with Lindir and talking with him in elvish for _hours_ , and he’d seen her and stiff-lipped Lord Elrond casually tease one another at meals- or at least he assumed they did, he couldn’t be certain because the tease was usually a short blurb in elvish followed by smirks. There was a history here for her, one none of them had ever heard a peep of, except what she shared now.

“How come we didn’t know you were so close to this place?” Thorin asked curiously, and Ayth looked away rather sharply, like she wanted to avoid him now. The action was foreign to Thorin, and it left him more confused than curious. He'd never seen Ayth actively look  _away_ from anything, even if it was ordered of her. She stared at whoever was speaking and would sometimes look away to give her attention to something else temporarily, but he couldn't think of a time she  _avoided_ looking at something.  She was now unnaturally quiet as well, and the air around her spoke of something he almost wanted to call anxiety. He watched her wringe her hands together like she was cold, and she shuffled her feet around awkwardly.

Ayth stared out across Imladris, at what never changed, not after ten years nor after a hundred. It’d been easy to tell him some of her history now that they lived in it, for it was hard to hide truths when you were at the scene of the crime, but it wasn’t so easy to explain why she never mentioned it before without sounding... Distrusting. Which, to be fair, she was a (half) dwarf, and the word distrusting was pretty much a characteristic all dwarves were born with. But she saw Thorin now, comfortable enough in the home of the elves to dress down to his inner clothes and walk barefoot, and she felt safe enough to share her time here. Just a week ago Thorin had refused all forms of liquor to maintain vigilance for his men while they got hammered, "just in case an elf convinces them to jump to their deaths". His men were drunk again tonight, yet here Thorin was, weaponless and back turned to the door, away from his men. She looked back over at the dark haired dwarf and waved her hand apathetically over his form.

“You’re... Thorin Oakenshield. Rightful King of Erebor, the descendant of Durin the Deathless, and renowned elf hater. Why would I, the outsider of the group, a half dwarf female from unknown lands, let you know I was friends with  _elves_? Can you imagine the sneers I would have gotten from all of you? The distrust?” Ayth asked finally, and then she shrugged. “So I kept it quiet. Kept  _this_ quiet. That I’m friends with immortal beings with pointed ears, that they taught me how to use a bow and arrow and their ways of fighting, that I learned their language and forging skills, that I built all my weapons but my short sword right here in this homely place.”

Thorin watched Ayth explain, and he understood. He understood why she didn't tell them she was an elf-friend. Because she was right, they would have seen it as too weird for any normal dwarf to befriend the tall beings who had historically turned their backs on his kin. And while he might not like the idea, he understood why she became friends with them at all. It was hard to hate the people that gave so much of their time and resources to you. It was hard to distrust the people who pulled you back from death, who gave you a place to sleep and eat and learn new things, and all they had asked for in return was for you to hang around. Even if they were elves everything they did with and for her would build up, and she would have made friends with some of them (example being Lindir).

“So what changed? Why tell me now?” Thorin asked delicately. Ayth continued to stare at him as she tried to figure out what to say, and Thorin surprised himself by finding the patience to wait for her answer. Eventually, she raised one of her hands up to move the collar of her shirt enough to show the uppermost parts of the scabs under her collarbone, and Thorin shuffled uncomfortably at the sight of the angry black-red that marred her skin. It was the first time he'd seen them since she received them, and he knew they would become scars no matter how much elven medicine she swallowed. It was a grim reminder in this already half tense conversation that Ayth had suffered pain for them, and it was a silent answer on why she was talking to him now.

“All of you stayed. You stayed when Bilbo and I were captured by trolls, and the thirteen of you let yourselves get bagged for dinner to save us. When we were running from orc trackers Gloin and Oin worried about me when they saw how I struggled to keep up. Then I killed an orc and not the warg it rode, and it almost cost Kili his life. I did what I could to correct my mistake, and when he was safe Kili ran to help me instead of running to safety. He and Dwalin freed me and carried me to where the rest of you were, leaving themselves open to attacks. Then when we get here you refused to leave me with the elves even though you knew I knew and trusted them, and you stayed with me for who knows how long after they were done,” She explained, uncomfortable, and she let the shirt fall back into place. Thorin jerked his eyes back up to hers when the scabs were covered. “And right now you are unarmored, weaponless, and bootless, and the men of your company feel safe enough to get drunk on elf wine and swim in the fountains in their undergarments. I figured that it meant something to see these things. That maybe I wouldn’t be booted out of the company for consorting with elves, or distrusted or sneered at for being friendly with them now.”

Thorin's mind was jerked in multiple different directions in the silence left after her explanation, but everything he thought to say fell short just inches from what he meant. It was a bold truth Ayth shared with him, _trusting_ him not to react negatively. She was right, he would have distrusted her the moment he knew she had friends within the race that betrayed his kin. He never would have listened to her advice or been honest with her in case it was something the elves said, and he never would have realized how she fit with the company. There were things he would never have known about her, small things that were common knowledge to all of them now could have been lost. How strange that a single thread of hatred could ruin so much of her relationship with all of them. Thorin felt like that was an important lesson he just learned, and he was almost amused that Ayth still managed to teach him something even while exposing a delicate truth about herself.

Since Ayth  _had_ kept it quiet, they’d seen her for her. The last couple months were what she could be and is, and just because she was friends with these elves (which Thorin would begrudgingly admit weren’t the worst hosts) didn’t change what happened. She was still a stubborn half dwarf with a penchant for daggers and making all of them laugh, the same one who’d gotten Thorin to open up, taught Bombur, Bofur, and Bilbo herbs of the land, and fought several well-trained members of his company and held her ground. She'd still willingly given up her life to let them run from the trolls, and had willingly made the split-second decision to protect Kili at the risk of her own life with the warg. None of that changed just because of who she was friends with.

“Thank you for telling me.” Thorin murmured once he figured out nothing else he could say would convey what he wanted or felt. Ayth closed her eyes and smiled then, and she turned her face up to the open sky with what he thought was a relieved sigh. It was a brief physical representation of how she felt at his words, and Thorin knew he’d made the right choice. She opened her eyes just seconds after closing them, and when she looked back down Thorin found a soft look laid upon her features. It was a warm smile that glowed in the moonlight, and it made her look youthful. As if she hadn’t spent decades fighting and traveling Middle Earth, and instead was just a young dwarf in a casual situation. Thorin was partially entranced by her expression, very much different from anything he’d seen on her before.

“You’re welcome.” She answered, voice just as soft as her look, and Thorin smiled back reflexively at her subtle joy. Ayth turned to the open space beyond the balcony they stood at once more, and she deftly pointed to a building on their left. When she saw Thorin was leaning over to see where she pointed she began to talk.

“Over in that building is the forge we’ve mentioned but never pointed out. I was taught blacksmithing by Erestor, one of Elrond’s oldest kinsmen in this home. He’s quiet in casual conversation, bold in serious discussions, and quick-tongued in instructing. Before he became a decent teacher though, he was a... Moron. He thought that because I had dwarf blood in me I had a natural hand in blacksmithing and that I only needed the push to begin. So he had me hammer right away at what was supposed to be a short sword, but it ended up looking more like a long steel pole that hit a bit too many rocks. When I showed it to him I knew it was bad, but I was too angry that he thought I was good at something just because I was a descendant of metal makers and mountain carvers to care. He took one look at it, promptly became horrified, and said that it wasn’t a sword. And I, an already annoyed woman, went over to the wooden logs they use for the metal melting furnace, whacked one of them as hard as I could, and broke it in half. I looked back at Erestor and said ‘but it cuts like one’.” Ayth told Thorin with an embarrassed grin. It was a fun memory to look back on, but it was absolutely embarrassing to say aloud, which made it the perfect ice breaker after the conversation they just had. It worked too because Thorin was chuckling a storm from beside her now. 

“The worst part is,” Ayth mumbled, and Thorin listened intently. “He kept the stick. It now hangs in the forge.”

* * *

 

As a balance beam between dwarf and elf, Ayth was invited to come and mediate the map reading. Her initial answer had been no because there was still work to be done with Ori and Bilbo on their secret project and their deadline to leave was coming soon. The evening at the moon podium would take time away from where she could be helping them. She was also still sore from her ribs after the beating she took from sparring Dwalin despite several orders from three different species not too. Then she realized that if she said no she’d be leaving Thorin and Elrond in the same room, looking over the same map. True Balin and Gandalf would be there, but she thought it would be just a bit better if she was there. She was dwarf where Gandalf wasn’t, and was familiar with the elves they stayed with where Balin wasn’t.

She followed the group of elves and dwarves into the outdoor sanctity she’d been in once or twice before, but stayed in the back against the wall to take some of the edge off her side. The rest of them, save for guards and Lindir, went up to the Moon Podium. Lindir slid beside her against the wall, which didn't escape Thorin notice. He trained his eyes on them for as long as he possibly could and only turned away once his attention was needed by Elrond and Gandalf. When the dwarf king's eyes were gone from them, Ayth looked up and Lindir looked down, and they shared a grin. They returned to pointedly ignoring each other not a second after, just in time for Gandalf to look at them. Their lack of communication didn't mean Lindir was stopped from helping her though. Against the dark shadows they were in, he lifted one arm over her head to her opposite arm, and placed his other on her other arm. Subtly he lifted her up, getting more weight off her legs. Ayth kept a pointed look away from him and at the thoroughly put upon Thorin as he placed the map on the Moon Podium.

“Thank you, Lindir.” She murmured in Sindarin when Elrond began speaking. She felt Lindir’s arm tighten on her arm minutely, the only sign he heard her. The next thirty minutes transgressed without a hitch, besides a snide comment once from Thorin and once from Elrond. Ayth hadn’t needed to step up yet, and anything that could have become something Gandalf got too. For the most part, she felt like a fourth pair of ears as it was learned what had been secretly written on the map.

“What is your quest?” Lindir asked in elvish, all curiosity as he too listened to the words the two leaders spoke. Ayth stiffened under his grip, drawing his attention away from the Podium. When he looked down he saw silver eyes already staring back and he was once again surprised at how... bright her eyes looked in the moonlight. They were of abnormal colors already, a mix of dark grey with light grey flecks, but in the moonlight, it was like they glowed. It wasn’t something he’d seen in a mortal or immortal before or after her, until he went to see the home she spoke so fondly of during her time in Elrond’s House (for official business only), and he saw her siblings and a few of their kids.

Her brother Adren and sister Dahlia had similar grey eyes to hers, and he found that the younger the grey-eyed descendants got, the lighter their eye colors were. When he met the youngest of their descendants he found they had eyes so pale he’d almost assumed they were blind, until one of the pale-eyed children mentioned his ears. Her siblings' eyes were more natural in color compared to hers since their _human_ father had hazel brown eyes, but they were still clearly all related. He was left to theorize that because of her dwarven heritage certain things about her wouldn't fall into one category or the other, and ended it there.

“This time around it is not mine to say. I am not the leader, and as not leader, the actual leader has told us not to tell of our quest to outsiders, and especially not elves.” She answered in the same language, looking back over at where her said “Leader” was. Lindir frowned, as surprised by her withholding as he was that she listened to another dwarf.

“Why not?” He asked, looking over the dwarf she followed so willingly. Thorin was nothing special by elven, dwarven, or human standards. He was tall for a dwarf sure, but he was still much shorter than any man or elf. He did not have intricate braids as some of his companions did, and he certainly didn’t have enough hair on his face to be considered a respectable beard by the dwarven standards Ayth had once explained. His long hair was massively untouched, he had no tattoos on the skin he showed (which admittedly wasn't much to begin with), and the only piercing Lindir had seen was a long metal piece along the cartilage of his right ear. According to all dwarven standards once explained to him, Thorin was nothing to look at, let alone someone to follow.

“The elves didn’t help his people when Smaug attacked our home, nor did they afterward when we sought refuge.” She answered, voice oddly subdued. Lindir didn’t react or show an outward display of emotion at her answer. She didn’t expect one, but she knew a little about Lindir. He focused on what he was thinking about, and his eyes were boring holes in Thorin right then. She almost felt sorry for the dwarf.

“Is that where you’re going? Home?” He asked finally. Ayth froze under his grip and stared up at him like he was daft, and Lindir stared back casually, waiting.

“Are you insane?” She asked sharply, her tone angry and insulted. Her voice caught the attention of the other people in the room, where everyone but two understood her. Unbeknownst to her, she’d stopped the very same conversation about to happen between Thorin and Elrond.

The dwarf king immediately moved for her aid, but Balin stopped him with a hard hand on his bicep. Ayth wasn’t hurt, but angry. She wasn’t incapable of protecting herself either, even while still healing, and she’d stayed with these elves for ten years. Had there been a reason for her to distrust them she would not have stayed for so long years ago. Plus, there were one too many witnesses for anything to happen. Their half dwarf was safe.

Lindir moved around to be in front of her and kneeled until he was lower in height and had to look up to see her face. It was a move he discovered helped her not clam up when she talked because he stooped to her level to see from her eyes. It was more a metaphorical thing, but it was the fact he would stoop down to see her that helped her. From here, she could look down at the concern in his eyes, and he could look up at the flames of fire in her eyes. He debated keeping his hands on her shoulders or taking them off, and she debated turning her head to look away.

“Are you?” Lindir asked softly in the elven language, and to the dwarves, it sounded like singing. Ayth watched him for a moment, chewing her tongue to see what words tasted the least vile. She greatly wanted to tell the truth, she didn't like lying period, but the quest was to be kept a secret unless Thorin shared it first or said they could. It wasn't her decision to make to tell Lindir.

“No,” She answered eventually. Her face flushed with pain, and she turned her head away from the elf. “There is nothing left to return to, so why would I even try?”

“Dwarves are stubborn.” Lindir pointed out, attempting a friendly and casual approach. He wasn’t the best at them, but Ayth always was and she appreciated it when he tried.

“Dwarves are stubborn but I’m not stupid. Going home would be a suicide mission, and I don’t want to die yet.” Ayth said in common, so Balin and Thorin wouldn’t continue to be in the dark. She didn’t see it, but as soon as they heard her words in common they knew exactly what had been happening, and they felt relief she’d been so quick to do whatever she’d done. She had an elf  _kneeling_ for her for Mahal’s sake.

“Why now?” Lindir asked in common, as if her statement had actually surprised him. Like her  _not_ wanting to go on a suicide mission and die was  _surprising_ to him.

An image of Ayth’s flat eyes and somber smile the morning after they met went through Thorin’s mind then, when she spoke about her mom and how she had expected the death. A similar shiver from that morning tore down his spine as he remembered, and he had to physically hold back showing it. He almost didn’t want to dwell on what Lindir meant with his question, because if he did, he might realize Ayth wasn’t as light-hearted as she appeared.

Her reply was in the language Thorin and Balin didn’t know, but whatever she said had the elves around them focus their attention on them. The two dwarves stood stiff under the eyes of Elrond, the four guards, and Gandalf as they watched Lindir ask (they think) another question in elvish. Ayth responded in kind once more, and the two dwarves only understood one word: Thorin.

Lindir nodded to the half dwarf at whatever her reply had been, then he stood and walked over to the two confused dwarves. Both of them tensed at his approach, and Balin’s hand on Thorin’s arm tightened. The elf stopped at the bottom of the stairs in front of them, face unreadable, but the dwarves got the feeling he was humbled. Finally, he leaned forwards and bowed low to the ground.

“Master Thorin, Master Balin. You may have brought her here bloody and close to dying, but you have saved her where no one else could for many decades. For that, many of House Lord Elrond, and I personally as her closest friend here, thank you for saving her.” He said to them, sounding as humble as they thought he was. He stood up gracefully after his words and graced them with an almost smile. He then turned around and left the room at a quick pace, leaving a frowning Ayth against the wall behind him.

Whatever ire that Elrond had before pertaining to their quest was gone, and he leveled eyes that neared sorrow on Ayth. The woman was either unaware of his stare or pointedly ignored it as she looked at the floor. It didn’t take long for Thorin to see her slowly leaning farther down the wall, and he sent Balin over to hold her up.

“Are there any other questions or anything else you wanted to speak of?” Elrond asked Thorin, though his eyes did not move from Ayth. The tall dwarf slid his eyes to the tall elf for a long second, and then back to Balin and Ayth, who were now quietly arguing, and it sounded like Balin was berating Ayth.

“No, I got all I needed,” He answered politely. The stories he’d heard about this home from Ayth a week ago, coupled with Ayth’s tired form now aided the next words out of his mouth, “Thank you for your help. It was extremely informative and much appreciated.”

Elrond did look at him at that, clear surprise written across his elvenly handsome face, and Thorin stared back with what he hoped was a pleasant expression.

“You are welcome, Thorin Oakenshield,” Elrond murmured. He then saddled the dour dwarf with a small smile. “If that is all, please get Ayth to her room, I worry she may collapse.”

Thorin willingly listened to the elf then. He grabbed the map from its spot on the Moon Podium and went over to where Ayth now leaned on Balin at his insistence. He took up the other side of Ayth for insurance, and together with the old dwarf, they walked a grumbling Ayth back to her room.

“What did you do back there, lass?” Balin asked quietly once they were a ways down the hall. Ayth sighed deeply and lifted her head up to look at the kind-faced dwarf.

“ _I k_ _ept them from questioning our quest_.” She answered in Khuzdul, keeping it secret even now.

“You said my name,” Thorin said in common, and Ayth hummed.

“Thorin’s Company is what I actually said.” She responded, in common this time. Thorin and Balin looked at each other over her head then, and Thorin knew Balin saw what he did back when Lindir kneeled in front of Ayth. He'd been surprised that she didn’t want to go on a suicide mission and die. Like at one point that fact was different.

“Lass, pardon our assumption if we are wrong, but did you say Thorin’s Company made you... not want to die?” Balin asked, as blunt as a dwarf but as cautious as a friend. They needed to know though, because if it was true it meant they needed to watch her as they entered the more dangerous parts of their journey: like the Misty Mountains and _Mirkwood_. The two dwarves felt Ayth shake between them, and they heard the hitches in her breath that meant she was _laughing_.

“I never  _wanted_ to die, Balin. I just... didn’t care if I did or not for a very long time. The Company changed that.” She answered once she'd gotten control of her chest spasms. The three dwarves entered her room and, as a unit, set her down on the bed. She practically melted into the covers, and had the topic of discussion not been so heavy, the two eldest would have laughed. Having said that, they did smile.

“Does that mean back with the warg, after you saved Kili, you would have let it kill you? Kili mentioned he saw you give up under the warg.” Thorin mentioned next, as blunt and cautious as Balin had been. Ayth sighed heavily where she lay and pushed herself into a sitting position. With startlingly clear eyes she leveled them with a dull stare.

“You’re both making this out to be a bigger deal than it is. No, I would not have just ‘let it kill me otherwise’. If I went through my life like that, I would have never survived the Orc Raids on my own home. I would have fought the warg until it was dead or I couldn’t fight back anymore. The difference of now and when the elves knew me is that back then, I didn’t have a reason to fight to live anymore. I jumped between adventures and fights, got hurt and stood back up. If at any point during those adventures I had been hurt beyond what I could save myself, I would not have sought out outside help. Now though, I have people to protect, and I will try to survive for as long as I can to protect them. The only clause to that is if giving my life is what protects them. I’m dedicated to that. I’m dedicated to the quest that shall-not-be-named and making sure you get to your mountain. Unlike back then I now have a reason behind what I do, and I care if I live or die. And that's the difference. Got it?” She explained, irked by the questions even while touched they cared enough to ask. The two dwarves looked at each other uneasily.

“Yeah, we get it,” Balin answered softly. He pat her arm gently, a silent transfer of comfort and understanding, and then he walked away, aware that if he pried for more Ayth wouldn't take it nicely. The half dwarf followed his trek with her eyes until he passed the archway of her room, and then she looked back at Thorin, who hadn’t moved when Balin did. His face was more impassive than usual as he thought, and his eyes were warm despite that they were unblinkingly staring at her like he was analyzing her. Ayth had no idea what he could be thinking about at that moment.

Thorin reached through space between them and placed his hand on one of hers, a mimicry of the day in the hospice. The sudden touch startled Ayth as much now as it did then, and she jolted under his hand. The movement didn’t deter the dwarf as he held her hand more solidly, like he was now sure of what he was doing. She stared at him with suspicious eyes, trying to figure out what he was thinking now more than before.

“Why didn’t you before?” He asked suddenly, curious to know if there was a way to stop her pain in the future. Ayth raised an eyebrow at him in question, and he explained, “I mean, why didn’t you care before whether or not you lived or died?”

In an instant, a pinched look crossed Ayth’s face at the question, and she automatically she looked down at Thorin's hand on hers to see the ring his Little A had given him. She tilted her head at it curiously, having never seen it this close before. She noted that the ruby of the ring was surrounded by and diveted into the aged silver so that it never came into contact with the outside world, forever protected and secured in its placement until the silver melted or the ruby shattered. She gently tilted his hand this way and that to watch the small ring catch the light in the room, intrigued by it now. The silver gleamed despite the years it went through, and Ayth could almost picture the words Thorin said were etched in it. The pinched feeling she felt faded.

“My One,” She answered. “I never did get to grieve properly in my youth, and when I was finally free of my duties everything had festered and built up in me. I’d lived to keep my queendom safe, it had been my reason to keep going for decades. Adventuring was my freedom from  _everything_ , and I quickly realized the wound of loss had never actually healed. Since the wound never healed, the loss was still prominent, and without something to live for anymore...”

“You didn’t see much a reason to care.” Thorin finished softly. He understood her reason perfectly, having lived a similar life. He was slightly different than her in this though, he  _had_ been able to move on past the uncaring stage when he was young, because his grandfather and father made sure he could. He'd been able to find other things to live for, even when alone. He might not have ever moved on, but he lived on.

Ayth nodded, and she gave him a smile that Thorin thought was the closest he’d ever seen to her heartache, that which laid behind her usual quirked lips. Her mouth curved up into a soft lilt, but none of the muscles of her cheeks, eyebrows, forehead, or jaw moved with it as per usual. It was the only facial movement she made, and the rest of what she felt was expressed in her eyes. There were now cracks in the grey of her irises, like broken rocks around a black pool, betraying her pain for him, as well as a warm glow that Thorin wanted to call joy, though it seemed weird she’d feel that now.

“Now though, you, this company, the dwarves and hobbit we walk with, it's helped. I no longer don’t care, I want to survive and try and live for all of you. It’s rather freeing honestly. Plus, I think all of you need all the help you can get, and I am at your services.” She answered, and her somber smile grew brighter. Thorin gazed at her for several long seconds, and found he felt soft at her admission. It made him content to hear such words, and he knew that the other members of his company would share the same thoughts if they knew what she said.

“Thank you.” He murmured simply, and to Ayth it didn’t feel like his thanks were for any one thing individually this time. He was thanking her for multiple things: her trust in him to speak of such delicate things, her use of the elves softness for her to keep them from getting pestered or removed from the premises, her willingness to die to save them from the trolls, tackling a warg off of Kili even while wounded, protecting Bilbo even from himself every day for weeks now, for simply choosing to go on their quest at all. He was trying to thank her for all of it.

“You’re welcome.” She murmured back, answering every example he could think of with those two words. Thorin held her hand a few moments longer, then he let go of her and walked out of the room without another word.


	7. Beaded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm always going to have problems with this chapter, but the things it covers are important, so I will stop overediting and let the chips fall where they may.

The evening before they left Rivendell Bilbo, Ori, and Ayth finished their secret project. The triad introduced the clothes to the company after dinner when they knew no one would be pulled away for something, where all but Thorin were there to receive them.

The three were wearing their clothes when they brought out the rest of them, to show off before the dwarves got theirs. Ayth had on maroon clothing with gold letterings “Ayth Shielden of Tow North Downs” in dwarven, some family names in common speak, and battle cries she was fond of between the two languages. Ori’s outfit inspired a paler shade of cobalt blue with pale pink stitchings, and across his clothes in khuzdul were “Ori of Khar-Kuldir Ered Luin”, his brothers' names, and battle phrases he was fond of. Bilbo wore pale sunflower yellow clothes with grass green lines. His clothes were stitched with Hobbitish, so no one knew what it said beside him, but they all assumed it followed the same lines as theirs.

The reaction of the company was joy and surprise at the new clothes, which changed as soon as they touched the material and realized it wasn’t wool, but elvish cotton. Some of them threw the clothes to the ground like they were burned, some spurred out strings of Khuzdul and debated throwing the clothes in the fire, others attempted civility but held the clothes away from them, some wouldn’t even touch the clothes, and others held the clothes and stared at the three with confusion at their gifts.

“What is this?” Dwalin guttered out, holding the maroon clothing with Durin blue stitchwork. Ayth handed off another pair of pajamas to Dori, who held the clothes out from himself and stared at the cherry red and dark brown line work with an apprehensive, appraising eye, and she slid a smile to Dwalin.

“They are clothes. While not a fabric dwarves would love to have, elf clothes are light and temperate for days and nights where you don’t have to wear armor. I noticed none of you thought to bring a luxury item to rest in on our safer days and decided this would be something worthwhile as summer continues to burn. It is something Ori, Bilbo, and I have worked on for a few weeks now, so at least be kind.” She answered. Dwalin looked down at his clothes again, then back up with a raised eyebrow. He shook the clothes once more.

“You’re joking right?” He asked.

After the clothes were handed out to the rest of the company, and none of the dwarves attempted to use their clothes as kindling, Ayth bid them well with promises of a return and left to give Thorin his set. It was small comfort to know that Thorin was free that evening since Gandalf was in a meeting with Elrond that supposedly lasted from dusk to dawn, and thus he wouldn’t be hard to find (or so she hoped). Ayth would first search the balconies before she checked any rooms, for Thorin had begun to favor mountain ranges over elven decor.

True to any other night, Thorin was on the balcony that overlooked the next morn’s venture: the Misty Mountains. He sat on the open floor, feet off the edge, looking out at the falling light in calm reverie. His thoughts swirled with plans of their future: the Misties, the land leading to Mirkwood forest, the Mirkwood forest itself. Balin would lead them through the Misty Mountains, there was no debate about that, and Ayth hinted that she knew the Greenwood forest a few days prior. Talk of the forest hadn't happened yet, but he would remember the hint when it was needed a few months from then.

“You know, elf clothes are rather perfect to sleep in. Especially when they’re a different color from pastel." Ayth started. Thorin woke from his thoughts at her voice and glanced over his shoulder at the royal half dwarf. He took notice of her collar first, where he could see the angry scars of the original wounds just barely over the edge of her shirt. He couldn’t see her side, for obvious reasons of properness, but three days ago he caught her tossing Dwalin over her body with his ax, so he figured her side was completely healed.

Her elf clothes were a familiar deep maroon similar to her vest, though it was marred by dwarven runes and the westron alphabet etched into it. He noticed her name, town (now he knew where she was officially from), and family members written in dark gold, and Thorin idly wondered how she did it.

Satisfied in his knowledge that she was safe and healed he looked up at her. Her reddish blonde hair was unbraided the same it had been for the last few weeks, and he distantly acknowledged that it reached her elbows now. Her eyes reflected the sun’s dying light as she drew closer to him, and the reflection kept his attention for so long that he completely missed the long sideburns along the side of her head that stopped where her jaw started, trimmed neatly and expertly, which answered a question Thorin didn’t realize he had.

"I refuse to wear them." Was his reply to her statement. Ayth grinned as she moved her arms from behind her back to reveal Durin blue material. She walked forwards quietly on bare feet with nary a breeze.

"Ori, Bilbo, and I especially dyed these for you." She continued while she dropped the pants in his lap so she could unfold the shirt.

Elvish material no longer looked elvish. The dark blue cloth looked Wool-like to the eyes, but as Thorin fingered the material he knew it was that annoying elvish cloth. Black ruins crossed over it, Khuzdul lettering that said his name and home, names of family and battle cries. He saw Erebor, his siblings and nephews names, Durin, and King etched in with no pattern. On the cuffs of the shirt, in black, was the name King Thorin. He smiled at it and brushed a finger over the words. He took the shirt, telling Ayth thanks with his eyes as he decided to humor her.

Ayth smiled as she watched him leave, glad that Thorin was ridding himself of his heavy clothes and armor for their last evening of peace, if only for a few more hours. Maybe she could help him with his cringes now, in the little while given. Dawn was far away if the setting sun said anything.

Ayth sat beside where Thorin had been while she waited. She stared out over the mountain face and waterfalls Thorin had stared at, eternal as always, and allowed herself to acknowledge how much she’d missed Rivendell. The sights, the inhabitants, the age. It was once almost a home for her, as Imladris was for all folk who decided to stay in its protective borders. The ability to be nobody had called to her back then, and she’d lost a bit of her anger at the world during her stay. She didn’t have that need now. She accepted what she was and could never be when her last sibling died forty years ago, and now, with her kin with her, it was merely a beautiful hotel.

Thorin clomped into the room with a sound that was decidedly not booted, and it made Ayth grin.

“How is it?” She asked without looking over her shoulder. There was another shuffle, and she felt the presence called Thorin a couple of paces behind her.

“Perfect fit.” He said humorously, which made Ayth look over her shoulder.

It did fit him perfectly, just as he said, though...

“The shirt is longer than it's supposed to be.” She laughed out once she realized it reached his knees. Thorin shrugged the comment off with a wave of his hand, took the last two steps to the edge, and sat down next to Ayth. There was a moment of peaceful silence in which both royals relaxed and enjoyed the other’s company, a still rare occurrence for them despite any attempts on their part. They watched the sun drift into an orange hue, and eventually, Ayth hummed a quiet tune she remembered her dad sang from her younger years.

Thorin smiled at the familiar dwarven lullaby his companion hummed, and he relaxed more into the ground that their hands leaned on. He was filled with contentment then, sitting there next to Ayth, and he let a small smile cover his lips at the serenity of the moment. The sights they could see was beautiful, the sun was brilliant, they were both in comfortable clothes thanks to Bilbo, Ori, and her, it was quiet from the noise of other dwarves and elves, and Ayth was officially healed of wounds with only scars to tell the tale. He could live with having this in his life more often.

Ayth stopped humming when her memory of the song ended. She pulled back from the ledge to start the thing she wanted to do, startling Thorin from his reverie once more. She wrapped her arms under his and pulled him away from the edge of the balcony quite easily, giving them a safer area for what she planned. Thorin wasn’t able to do more than stare at the falling sun as Ayth settled in behind him. Her legs appeared on either side of his, her calves to his thighs and her feet to his knees, and that was all he could see of her now. He felt the gentle brush of her fingers across his shoulders, then a throb of pain as she pressed in, and then the feel of her knuckle digging into a knot on his shoulder.

“Ayth?” He asked cautiously, leaning away from the heat she radiated. Was this normal? Some human custom he didn’t know (or want to know) about?

“Relax. I’m getting rid of some pain. Since we haven’t been rushing around I’ve noticed you flinch when you move in certain directions. I doubt the armor helps any of that, plus having fourteen souls to take care of probably didn’t help the stress that has likely added to it. Considering we continue our travels tomorrow and you’re finally not busy for an evening, I figured I’d help you in some way.” She answered while she dug her thumbs into a knot that _had_ been bugging him. He flinched as it stung as he wondered how to retort to that. He was tempted to say something, like _what about formalities_? Like that was something he could use after seeing her with only a towel to cover what should stay hidden. Or maybe _mind your own business_ would work. She was right though. Constant armor wear and constant personal quarters with people he had to constantly take care of wasn’t exactly healthy, and he couldn't remember the last time he had peace. This short reprieve had been the most rest Thorin had for a while, and he’d kept his armor on for most of the time they were here, save for a few nights when he could relax. If he’d been so uncomfortable that Ayth had noticed in the limited times they saw each other, it was probably more than he should feel.

“Can you have a beard?” Thorin asked, decided in his decision to let her try and help. Ayth rubbed particularly hard then and... the first knot released, leaving tender muscle that Ayth soothed with the palm of her warm hand. She hummed a yes, more focused on a double knot she discovered at the knob of Thorin’s neck than at the mock attempt at conversation. She noticed how Thorin winced when the knot broke into two smaller ones. She soothed it with her palm and left it for a while.

“Yes, I can grow one... Though it will never be as big as other dwarven females... It grows as fast as any other dwarf’s... Though it barely reaches my chin..." She answered eventually, amidst her distraction. She shrugged though he couldn’t see it and rubbed another knot into sore muscle.

“When did you let it grow out?” He asked next, wondering _how_ she knew what hair she could and could not grow. How did she know, and since she could, why didn’t she have one now?

“The last twenty years of my ruling in my kingdom. It was a combined result of a dare from my uncle and my father preaching about it being a sign of my ability to rule. It took a year of just letting it grow before I realized it wouldn’t go farther than the bone of my jaw, all the way down to my chin. It could grow long, never full, but it was enough for the dwarves of my home. Once I left home, I had free reign of my hair.” She answered, a bit more conscious of her words now.

Thorin nodded as he tried to imagine what she looked like. Did her hair take after the blonde or red of her head? What would she have even done with it? Would she have been extravagant like his grandfather? That didn’t sound right from what he knew about Ayth now, but maybe she’d been an extravagant queen? Somehow he knew that idea was wrong.

"Why did you cut it after you left your kingdom?" The exiled king asked next. Ayth tipped his head forwards, thumbs against another knot in a very tender area. Thorin resisted the urge to hide his neck, a rather bold claim of trust he wondered if Ayth understood.

When the half dwarf talked again it was a few minutes later, and in their Mother Language, Khuzdul. Thorin snapped to attention at the language difference, aware that it was used when they wanted to talk in privacy.

“Initially, I didn’t. As a leaving gift from my people, Man and Dwarf joined and created three beads for me. The Men came up with each meaning, both sides designed them, and the Dwarves crafted them. The first bead was placed on the left side of my head, where I usually braided part of my beard behind my ear. It spoke of who I was before I became queen. The broken dwarf who lost her One long before it could even be considered alright, who used jokes and humor to ignore her past, and who saddled through life simply because her family refused to let her fall. The second bead was placed on the right side of my head, following the part of my beard that traveled over that ear. It spoke of who I was after I became queen. A still broken dwarf, but one who decided her people’s needs were her needs, and set to do right by her kin. One who used jokes and humor to make others smile when she couldn’t, who went through life because she refused to fail her people.” Ayth explained slowly, each word carefully chosen and hand-picked for the topic she talked about.

She paused in her talk for a moment, turning her focus to a knot that was almost _under_ Thorin’s shoulder bone. Thorin only distantly felt the pain of the knot, stuck in a loop of the fact she was told him... _that_. Told him about her _personal_ , _private_ beads, and what they _meant_. He didn’t even know she _had_ beads until now.

He wondered if Ayth knew of such meaning in telling him or if she had merely forgotten it was secret. It felt highly unlikely it was the latter. She's remembered smaller and much less important information about many things with ease, had switched to Khuzdul when she started talking, and any dwarven royalty (no matter how small) was prided in knowing the ins and outs of such traditions. That meant that Ayth _knew_ what she was doing, and was giving the information willingly and freely, without even having to be asked. That hit Thorin more than any other story she’d told in the past, and he began to wonder _what_ he'd done to earn such trust from the half dwarf.

“The last and final bead was placed on my chin,” She started up again as she remembered the conversation. “I’d grown hair long enough from the sides that I could create a pseudo-idea of a chin curtain. I had a braid about as long as Nori’s, but twice as thick near the top because, you know, it wasn’t a real beard.”

Thorin smiled at how she said it, and he chose to push the what’s and why’s out of his head for now. He could ask her that later. Right now he needed to pay attention to her words because they were not words used lightly or often. At least, not by dwarven standards. She was half human, and humans tended to be more open to sharing secrets- no, she was half human, but if she was even a drop of dwarf she would know never to handle such knowledge lightly. He turned from his thoughts and focused on Ayth’s words and hands (which were still working on the knot _under_ his shoulder bone).

“The third bead was different from the other two. The first two beads were wrought of iron, the third bead was wrought from mithril. My father gave a few links off his mithril armor that had passed down his line from when the world was richer, just so I had a little bit of my family everywhere I go.” Ayth explained softly, and Thorin could hear her smile. She moved places, searching his other shoulder because the knot _under_ his shoulder bone was not coming easy.

“Once they had enough mithril to make the bead they wanted, they gave it to the smelter, Bail, brother of Bril, who melted it all down to create one bead. In this bead, they placed dark citrine and dark peridot, the closest gems in color to the flag of my village.” Ayth explained, her comment so offhand Thorin almost missed the information she shared. He didn't though, and his thoughts flashed to the first night he saw her, when he saw her vest had yellow gems in the V-neck portion, and her belt had green gems. Now the gems made more sense, and why they existed in her clothes at all made sense as well. It knocked his initial idea of her out of playing field. That being she had never been in battle and was likely of richer and of more spoiled origins, which he later learned wasn’t necessarily true. She was wearing her home’s flag on her bodice, showing her heritage silently.

“In the largest spaces of the bead, above and below the gems, was the insignias the oldest families of my village; six Man families and four Dwarf families, the founders of the town. One dwarf family was my father, the other three were dwarves who were loyal to my father and followed him the second he walked away from the mountains of the east. More dwarves showed later, but blah blah, history lesson, blah. This bead was crafted to remind me of their love and loyalty, and how in return, all they wanted was to be remembered. The kids of Man I played with when we were young were now graying, entering their fifties, sixties, and seventies, and some had even passed already. The dwarves I was surrounded by knew the likelihood of ever seeing me again was small, for Arda is big, and some of its inhabitants were not kind to dwarves, women, or mixed races. So on my journey, they wanted me to always know that they were there, and if my life ever began to feel lonely again, I need only remember what was so dear to me.” She paused as she broke a cluster of knots in his shoulder, and proceeded to rub her palm gently against the agitated points. Thorin was thankful for her thoughtfulness of the bunched muscles, otherwise, they might jump and freak from being unknotted.

When she spoke again, it was in the Common Tongue. The secret of her beads was spilled and not to be repeated.

“The week before my departure Klas hosted a town-wide party. It was meant to last an evening, but it ended up lasting five. From the eve of a week of my leaving to my cousin’s coronation five days later. That first evening was the only one where I was given gifts; mostly coins and gems, for I already had my own weapons, though some still gave me some weaponry- one person even gave me a ten-foot metal stick, which I still don’t understand what it’s used for. The weapons, I’m sad to say, were left with my father, in my room where they hang on the wall for all to see. I took the daggers though because they were small. Twenty-three of them altogether, and I had my coat changed for all of them to fit.” She explained.

“It was at the party that one of the dwarves from miners background, whose forefathers worked with the Durin’s in Khazad-dûm before it was Moria, gave me a crystal he thought would better suit a line of fighters than a line of miners. It was a large crystal, about the size of our heads, and you could see straight through it. An heirloom of his forefathers, where his six times great grandfather had dug it out of Moria, just a few short years before Durin’s Bane appeared. I thought it was simply a wealthy gift, but he let me know it was much more than that. The crystal had loyalty, and whoever its owner was, it would never harm and always listen too. I thought he was going mad and spinning stories, but the thought changed when he gave me the crystal and declared me owner. The crystal heated in my hands, and it _vibrated_. I tried to give it back, because this wasn’t a gift you gave to a sixty-something year old half dwarf about to go possibly die in a ruin, but he wouldn’t take it. I left it with my father for twenty years, not knowing what to do with it, until I came upon this place here, Rivendell, and used it to recreate my daggers as you know them today.” She said easily now. Thorin remembered what his original question had been at that point, and saw where they were now. He wondered how it’d gone so far off topic from her original tellings of her beard. She was talking about a crystal from Moria, and he’d asked why she removed her beard. He didn’t think Ayth avoided the topic, though it was possible she was spinning stories until she was done with the knots in his upper back. Or she was weaving a tale to keep from telling the truth, diverting his attention away to a new thought process. Or maybe the tellings of these parts led to the reason she cut her beard, which sounded a lot more like Ayth than any of his other ideas.

“My last gift was the three beads. They were given to me by a tall man who was a renowned thief in his youth, on a pillow used for coronation ceremonies, all outlandish and with the caliber of humor I usually portrayed. I think the race of Man acted in such a way to lessen the blow, in case I took offense or disliked them, while the dwarves all stood proud, prepared for whatever backlash that could happen. What happened -and I will end your line if you share it with anyone else- was that I actually cried a bit. The meaning and detail, the clearly put in hard work, the fact that I was leaving, and the genuine smiles and love from the people I dedicated my life too, on the eve of one week to my departure, surrounded me.” She let out a watery laugh, like the memory still made her tear up.

Thorin imagined it. Ayth Shielden, all of sixty-something years old, sitting in the home of her forefathers where she had governed as queen for decades. She was dressed in her finest clothes, quite possibly in her family’s color (which he suspected was red based on her PJ’s and vest), and had her hair done up woven into the crown atop her head, possibly entwined with some jewelry she wore. Despite her appearance, Thorin couldn’t imagine her sitting regally. Her people knew her as both fun and serious, light-hearted and heavy-spirited. There in the halls of a party with people she'd known the entire time she’d ruled, and even longer before that, she would be light heartened. He could imagine her sitting in the most preposterous way she could without being immodest, probably waggling her eyebrows at whoever looked at her. When the room got quiet for the beads she would notice immediately, and then she would be serious. Preposterous would become pridefully proper, and she would suddenly look like the queen she was.

The thief would approach her with a pillow, and she would see the three beads before they were close. She wouldn’t figure out what they were until he knelt before her, holding the beads at chest level for her to see. She would grab one of the beads, mithril most likely for it was most rare, and look at it with sharp eyes. When it clicked, she would look at the party comers, _her_ people, and see their faces: the sincerity, adoration, and loyalty that was only fit for a ruler like her. She would realize that all these people worked together to create these beads, as one of the last -and most profound ways possible in dwarven culture- ways to show her what she meant to them.

Ayth wouldn’t immediately start crying, she doesn't strike Thorin as one to cry easily, facing the hardships she had. She would stare at her people, from children who didn’t understand the significance of the moment; the teens who knew what the beads meant, but not how deeply they meant; the striplings who understood what was happening and watched with bated breath, for it was the first time they had seen such a tradition happening; all the adults, both dwarf and man, that were comrades and friends in every sense of the word. She would see all of them and _know_ the time it took to create such beads, how they would have taken months to plan, and then a month to create. Her throat would close up and it would become hard to swallow. As she continued to see her people her eyes would start to pinch and fill with liquid. And the first tear would fall. Before her people could assume the worst, she would smile, attempting a joke as the tears continued.

Yeah, that sounded like her.

“I had the beads saved, wrapped carefully in a handkerchief, for me to put on once the party for _that evening_ was over. I asked around about them though, found out which dwarves had done the work, which humans created such ideas, how the whole process came to be complete. Later that night, I took the time to study the beads, and really began to understand just what was put into it. The next day, after shops closed but before owners left for town hall for _another_ party, I found the dwarf who smelted the metals, Bail, the dwarf who created the beads, Bril, and my father, Klas. I asked them if they would put the beads in my beard.” Ayth continued on. She felt Thorin tense under her fingertips, and she stopped talking.

“You let a smither and smelter put _beads_ in your _hair_ ?” Thorin asked, surprised, and Ayth understood why immediately. Hair was important in dwarven culture, upon so many layers. To be able to brush, let alone braid, _let alone_ put _beads_ in it, meant an extremely high layer of love, and no small amount of relations. Some family didn’t even have the ability, like Ayth’s nephews and nieces. Married couples, parents, children, siblings, lifetime long friends, close-knit and well adored betrothals (as Little A had been to Thorin) were the ones who had the right by nature. Other relationships were in the eyes of the beholder.

“Oh, pipe down would you! I knew what I was doing. You think I would have kept that town standing so close to an Orc Territory if I wasn’t smart or thought things through? I debated who to ask the entire night and morning. I chose Bail and Bril because I _knew_ them. My father knew them. They were part of one of the three dwarf families that followed my father west when he left their original home, and they _crafted my beads_. I have half a mind to show them to you so you can see the care they put into them. The craftsmanship is not something you would do for someone you didn’t like. It’s been over a hundred years and the beads are still perfectly carved and in their respectful, original appearances. If I had any doubt in my mind those brothers would do me or my pride wrong, I would not have asked them.” Ayth shot back, swatting at Thorin’s arm. Thorin remained tense, back to her, for long moments, most likely battling himself over her words and what he’d grown up with.

“I concede to your point.” He eventually grumbled out, even if he still wasn’t ok with the knowledge.

“Thank you. To be fair, Klas reacted similarly to how you did.” Ayth remarked, somber now. Thorin felt a bit better knowing that, as strange as that sounded. It meant he didn’t overreact to what she did, and that her father wasn’t so flippant a dwarf as to let what she did slide. He relaxed against her ministrations once more, and her thumbs began working their way up his spine.

“Back to the original topic, the brothers agreed once I’d explained why to my father, and you can imagine the honor they felt having been asked. I’d never seen the brothers shine so brightly in my entire life. It was how I knew I made the right choice, picking them.” She continued, and Thorin could hear the smile on her lips. It solidified his resolve to listen to her and not huff about it as much.

“I gave the bead that spoke of my past to my father; he was a big reason why I even survived or became who I was and am today. I gave the bead that spoke of me as a leader to Bail because he saw me worthy enough to take apart, melt down and create a tiny bead out of mithril, which couldn’t have been an easy thing. And I gave the third bead to Bril, who very clearly carved, gemmed, and wrote words tiny enough he would have had to use a magnifying glass to see clearly. He spent days on each bead, doing such works of art, it only seemed fair he got to put one of them on the person he created them for.” Ayth continued, and then she sighed. It sounded resigned to Thorin.

“I kept the beads in my beard for thirty years. The first ten years they stayed where my father and the brothers put them. As I delved deeper into being a fighter though, I had to change placements because of how often enemies like the aim for the throat. The first two beads stayed where they were, but the third one I braided into the forefront of my hair, near the base of the scalp, because my hair was always pulled back into a braid for easy movement. The next fifteen years, ten of which was spent with the elves, they were how they were when first put in. Near the end of my stay, Lindir told me that I didn’t need to fight so hard against humans, dwarves, and elves. My beard, though proud I was of it, and he stated even he had grown fond of it, was the reason for so many of my issues with other races.” Ayth explained, more somber now. Thorin didn’t like how she said the elf was fond of her beard. How was an elf fond of a beard?

“He asked me to cut it or remove it completely to save myself problems with other races. I stood against him, for my beard was my own! It was part of my identity! It spoke of my heritage and bravery, where I came from, and what I was proud of. Removing it would be a disownment of what I fought so hard to earn!” Her willful tone turned softer, and her hands followed suit on a knot that had been in his side. “It took me another three years, after a full-on brawl with an actual dwarf woman I met in the Iron Hills who took offense to my heritage of two races, before I realized he was right. Amidst the brawl, she attempted to rip off my beard where it lay on my jaw, claiming I was not dwarf enough to have such a pride. The dwarves I’d come in with stopped her before she could do damage to my skin, but she managed to take off one of my beads. I didn’t even realize it was removed until the owner of the restaurant came over to apologize about his waitress and asked if it was mine. He then said, if in return I didn’t press charges against his restaurant or waitress, he would pay for my stay at the inn for however long I intended to stay. I accepted the apology and offer out of politeness. I stayed for one night -amidst which the owner came by in the middle of the night with one of his most popular recipes in hopes of retaining further favor-, and left the place the next day, heading for the town closest to it.”

Thorin now had an idea of where this was going, and he knew why she explained the entire story. She wanted him to know that what she chose to do was out of protection for herself, and possibly the protection of other people she traveled with. It had been the only option at the time that would keep her safe.

“Once in the new town, I took my departure from my dwarven companions, claiming that I knew where to go from there... Really, I was ashamed and embarrassed by what I planned to do when alone in my hotel. If you can imagine, and I think you know what I did, it’s not exactly something I’m proud to say. There is a bright side though. I found my travels went smoothly without a beard. Just as Lindir had said, more humans, elves, and dwarves believe me to be a young human girl, traveling with weapons too big for her. It saved me from sleeping outside when it rained and helped me get food when I didn’t have coin... There were a few who thought they could use me, but they learned pretty quickly that I wasn't defenseless," Ayth explained, her most somber yet. Thorin almost smiled at the last part, imagining the surprise across the faces of those who wished to do harm. "So, that’s why I cut it, and the pros outweighed the cons for years, so I never saw reason to grow it back."

Ayth deemed his upper and mid back clear of the knots she dared mess with today and now rubbed the tender spots slowly and softly so they didn’t cramp up somewhere through the night. Thorin yawned as tiredness set into his bones, and he rolled his shoulders to see if there were any more in them she could get out if he pushed her hard enough. His lower back pulled a little, but he wouldn’t tell her that. There were a few small ones under his collarbones from the stress of armor that he weighed the worth of mentioning.

"Anymore?" She asked, and Thorin held silent while he figured out whether or not he wanted to tell her. It wasn't all too proper to touch another unless set to heal, especially the chest and stomach because they protected the precious insides. And when touch wasn’t set to heal it was saved for family or lovers, for comfort and love. They were neither of those. They were travel companions. Brought together on a quest for a common goal, to reclaim their home from the dragon that took it.

Though to call them _just_ travel companions felt like an insult to what the two of them have seen and done. The stories Ayth told would not be forgotten (he was still reeling about her _beads_ ). The fact that she circumvented the truth to her friends to help keep the true meaning of their quest secret, even though she detested lying, would not go unheard. She’d given in to the idea of death twice to save whoever she could and was wounded both times. She’d let him see her at her most vulnerable, physically and emotionally, without much of a fuss (if you call him stubbornly not leaving her not making a fuss). If she could bend so much for him, he could lean a little for her.

"My uh... Chest." Thorin answered awkwardly. Ayth, unlike Thorin, didn’t consider the impropriety that might come of the action. She was helping and that was it. If his pectoral muscles wanted to be asses, she would whip... Nope, that’s the wrong way to word that. If Thorin ached and she could help, she would.

"Very well. Sit straight." She ordered with far less hesitation than he had. Thorin did as told and felt Ayth leave from her spot behind him. Her legs disappeared from either side of him as well, and he experienced a chill on his legs in their absence. He didn't have time to think on it as her hands found a way to his shoulders, holding them to guide him. He allowed himself to be pulled back, putting trust in Ayth not to do anything with his back turned. Just when he thought his head would hit the ground, it landed on a pillow. Or rather, his head and shoulders landed on folded knees.

"Get comfortable," Ayth told him. Thorin brought his body down slightly and twist his hips so he was leaning more to one side. He then gave Ayth the ok. Her hands immediately started on his collar, like she knew those pains were there. Thorin stared at her for a few moments before he allowed himself to close his eyes, making sure she was serious in her actions before he put his guard down.

"Why not let it grow again? You are in the company of dwarves who will not judge you, nor are we so easily hurt." He inquired, continuing their conversation while he followed her fingers mentally to make sure she didn’t try anything. They were light until they found a tense muscle, at which point they dug in enough he wanted to flinch. She never strayed somewhere dangerous and never pushed too far though, and he began to relax more where he lay.

“I don’t know,” Ayth answered finally, after twilight had been taken over by moonlight. Thorin blinked past the lazy droll of his mind to remember what they were talking about, and Ayth was warned of Thorin’s question when his chest rumbled under her fingers. Admittedly she thought he started purring at first; she’d once met a woman who could purr if she was content enough, so it wasn't the strangest concept. No though, Thorin did not purr, he merely began talking in a harsher language.

“Where are your beads now?” He asked sleepily in Khuzdul, and Ayth bit back a smile as the harsher throat sounds whistled. She wondered idly if he spoke Khuzdul for the secrecy of her beads from outsiders and just happened to be tired enough to whistle, or because when he was tired and relaxed he reverted back to his first language naturally. She almost hoped it was the second because that made this moment all the more adorable and not something of actual serious, secret matters. Thorin Oakenshield, proud (soon-to-be) King Under the Mountain, would speak sluggish Khuzdul when content and tired.

“They are on a rope in my bag,” She answered in the dwarven mother language. “I was wearing them until the day Gandalf found me in Bree. When I heard the dangers of the quest I removed them to protect them.”

Thorin hummed in understanding and attempted to move into a more comfortable position without letting her know that was what he was doing. He succeeded halfway.

“You should wear them. Be proud of them. If something happens I can have the best smither fix them.” He said, and Ayth grinned at Thorin now. He didn’t see it thankfully, otherwise, he might not have been as amused as she was.

“It’s the sentiment that counts, not the detail of the beads. It’s fine though, Bril is still alive, I saw him last year when I visited home. If they break, I’ll take them back to him.” She answered easily, and Thorin nodded, content in her reply.

Thorin shifted his attention to staying awake long enough to wait out her touch, he didn’t want to leave her there feeling obligated to stay so her leader could sleep. The _hands_ though, massaging muscles never touched by another (save for rare nights) was soothing. He managed to pause in the stage of consciousness where you were resting but able to focus if needed, right before true slumber. There he stayed, waiting to see if Ayth would want to get up when she was done.

At the bottom of his ribs, where she could go no further down without touching anything but flesh she stopped. There was a moment of utter motionlessness before Thorin felt a soft pressure on the curve of his nostril and cheek, followed by the same motion on his other side. Ayth put something on one of his shoulders, then the other, before she sighed and placed it along his face, from forehead to the tip of his nose. Her arms and hands crossed over his torso protectively, covering his ribcage with her arms and clasping her hands just under his diaphragm. He registered that Ayth had laid her body over his, guarding his entire upper half with her body as a way to protect him while he slept. It felt like a heartfelt gesture, one he could see but couldn’t quite figure out what it meant, and he tried to remember to ask about it in the morning when he was awake enough to talk about it. Until then, he fell asleep.

The end of their night was not the same for the rest of the company. Nor did their early evening disappearances go amiss, for in a couple of hours the rest of the company would realize they hadn’t seen either royal beings since dinner ended and clothes were handed out. Ayth mentioned she would return before she retired, and she hadn’t yet.

"Any idea where Thorin and Ayth are?" Bofur asked his still present companions (only six) from around his pipe. Bifur, Fili, and Kili were playing a card game, with Gloin watching them from off the sideline, booted out after losing. The other still awake dwarf was Dwalin, who stood watch by the fire they surrounded, still untrusting of the place even after four weeks of elf music and green food. It _was_ worth noting that he had taken off his armor and put on the pajamas created for him, which left him bare to attacks. He didn’t even do to appease the creators, he put them on _after_ Ayth left and Ori and Bilbo went to bed.

Bofur’s hat flaps swapped back and forth across his face as he looked for the sight of either the tall dwarf king or toothpick half dwarf. The Royal Brothers looked up from their game as well, thoughts wandering to when they had last seen the two. Bifur took their distraction as time to trade out a few coins.

"No. Thorin has been gone since dinner was over," Kili said, unperturbed by the knowledge. It had become a common occurrence, none of them worried anymore.

"Ayth disappeared after giving us the dyed elf clothing," Dwalin answered as he looked down at his maroon red attire. Compared to Fili and Kili’s outfits (Durin blue with honey gold stitchings in Khuzdul), his was alright. He looked back up to keep guard. “She said something about giving Thorin his outfit.”

The six dwarves that were at the camp peered at each other for a few moments.

"I'll go look for them," Fili said, setting aside his cards (he was _so_ going to lose had he stayed) and standing up. He brushed out his clothes, feeling naked and covered by them at the same time simply because they were so light in weight. He wondered if he could get away with using them as clothes under his armor or not, but figured he probably couldn’t. He didn’t know how strong they were against friction.

“Don’t get lost,” Kili called out to his brother’s retreating figure, eyes trained pointedly on his cards. Gloin leaned over and looked at them, and then leaned over and looked at Bifur’s. He moved back to a completely straight sitting position before he let out a noise.

“You are so gonna lose.” He chortled at them, not giving away _who_ was losing, and his facade of peace fell apart as he laughed. Kili and Bifur looked at him, then at each other.

Fili left the room smiling, which disappeared when he rounded the corner and realized he didn't know where either royal were. Whoever said they were even in the same building? All he knew was that Thorin disappeared after dinner, free from any meetings with elves or wizards because of some White Counsel, and Ayth left after giving them their clothes to find Thorin and give him his. That didn’t tell him anything.

For all he _could_ know, Thorin was making sex jokes with elf maids and Ayth was in the elf- _Lindir’s_ , room, eating lamb meat and elf wine as they bickered in elvish. Outlandish, yes, but not impossible. Well, Thorin’s was, but Fili’s seen Lindir and Ayth walk around looking like old friends as they talked (and yes he knew they actually were ‘old friends’) many times now.

He did know one thing though, and that was his uncle favored balconies here. If he was still up, he was most likely there. So Fili started towards some balconies a few buildings over that he knew of, usually only noticeable because of light filtering through the open archways. He half expected to come across an elf as he walked, this large place had tons of balconies with elves at every turn. He was even seeing new elves still! Either that or he forgot their faces constantly. Either way, he expected to see an elf first, and was debating if he should ask for help or not. No kinsmen around, no judging, and elves never told anyone except other elves, and maybe Ayth.

He didn't expect to so easily and suddenly walk in on his uncle and Ayth in a... position.

He stumbled upon sight and had to physically catch himself on a wall to keep from falling over. The loud scuffle his feet made was noisy enough to catch their attention no matter how deep in their minds they were, and Fili stood there frozen in fear, waiting for them to lift their heads and hiss at him, even though they were the ones in public.

Except no rebuttal came. And the longer Fili waited the more he realized they weren’t really doing... anything. Maybe they were giving him the opportunity to walk away so there didn’t need to be a long conversation about something Fili didn’t care to know about? In which case he should turn around and count his blessings. Or maybe something else was happening altogether. Because why else would Thorin be in public doing something so... _that_.

Fili walked around them as his curiosity won over his fear, giving them a wide berth in case he had caught them and they stopped to fool him. When he walked around far enough and close enough to see their faces he let out a sigh of relief to know they were sleeping. Like, legitimately sleeping. Ayth hummed every now and again in her sleep, it was her tell. When it was learned she did that, Gloin and Bombur, the only dwarves with kids, dined to tell the rest of the them that it happened sometimes with guardians over babes. They hum the babes to sleep so often that eventually it becomes natural to them. Ayth had countless human family members and was probably quite adept at the humming thing.

Thorin was legitimately sleeping because he wouldn’t let Fili see them like this without glaring at him. It was a glare Fili knew well, one he’d received his entire life when he’d done some mischief or another and Thorin caught him. He never didn’t grace him with the look, even when he was pretending to sleep, and Fili knew that because his mom used to encourage him to do something to see if Thorin was asleep or not when they traveled.

Fili finally relaxed knowing he was safe to observe and maybe understand the scene, for they were neither awake nor undertaking private matters. He crept closer to see what they were actually doing, because Ayth had her body curled around Thorin's upper body, obscuring most of him from the outside world. Her arms were crossed over Thorin's chest and ribs, laid in such a way Fili would have a hard time poking him. Her legs were tucked underneath her, and the crevice they made was Thorin’s pillow. Thorin lay relaxed on the ground, his body slightly angled so it looked as if he was trying to turn on his side, and Ayth was almost in a fetal position with her pose, just instead she rested on her shins instead of her side.

Fili noticed his idea on kissing wasn't too far off, their heads _were_ pressed together. From what little he could see, Ayth's mouth rested over Thorin's forehead and vise versa, and their noses were lined up, T-bones against nose tips, the only actual part of them touching. Their breathing was rhythmically even, telling Fili they’d been asleep for a while.

Fili promptly turned on his heel and left, knowing what to tell the rest. He walked as fast as he could while maintaining quietness, afraid that one of the sleeping dwarves would wake up and smoke him. It was blessing enough neither woke up when he initially scuffed upon seeing them.

“Well?” Bofur asked when he saw Fili walk in, smiling like he hadn’t spent the entire walk back in a panic.

"Both are going to bed and will be up before dawn to leave," Fili answered easily, _not_ eluding to what he saw. It wasn’t his secret to tell. It was theirs, and theirs it would remain (so he wasn’t stabbed). He would take it to the grave if he had to.

Bofur didn't question him either because that sounded exactly like something the two would do. They would too, sticklers for time as they were. Fili settled back between Kili and Bifur, across from Gloin once again, who dealt out a new round of cards. The only thing the blond heir noticed different here was that Dwalin had decided to sleep.

* * *

 

Thorin woke up many hours later, just shy of the start of dawn if the cobalt blue sky was to be believed. He felt well slept and pleasantly ached in a way he hadn't in decades, which he found weird when he noticed he was asleep on hard ground. The only thing really marring his pleasant mood was that something hard pressed against the back of his head like a rock.

"What is this pain?" Thorin grumbled to himself, turning to face the offending thing under his pillow. He didn’t know why there was now a rock under his pillow when he didn’t remember falling-

Thorin came face to face with skin. A pelvic bone pressed out from the flesh it lay under, just over dark red breeches. He noticed whiter colored scarring in an incomplete, jagged circle that looked suspiciously like a warg bite surrounding the protrusion of bone, and where the side and back met he saw old black markings that went past the shirt and pant line and continued around to the back. Tattoos that looked to tell a story he couldn’t see completely. That wasn’t odd, any warrior dwarf who had a story to tell normally inked it into their skin. Dwalin was an example of that. He had tattoos scaling his head and hands, and countless others under the sleeves of his clothes.

The image of the bare skin didn't filter through his head until a few seconds into his musing.

"Oh Mahal!" Thorin pushed away from the bare skin, looking at what it could possibly belong too.

He was greeted by the sight of Ayth. Sleeping. He didn't know if he should blush or pale at the sight.

Where his head had been moments ago was her stomach, right under her newly fixed ribs, and right above a hair trail that went from her belly button to beyond her pant line. Thorin could (finally) see that her ribs were indeed mended good as new, and he once again wondered if elvish medicine and magic worked that well, or if it was something in Ayth’s lineage.

He focused on the actual half dwarf next, drawing his eyes away from her midsection. Ayth looked strangely younger here than he’d ever seen her before when she slept, though perhaps it was because the other times they were in dangerous areas and Ayth only slept in a half states during travels. Her hair was a mess across her face now, and what wasn’t on her face was on her arm, which she used to prop her head up. She lacked the stress lines that would sometimes appear along her chin when she tensed her mouth- a mouth that was now slackened in rest while she slept. It was certainly the most relaxed he’d ever seen her, and he wondered why they were in the same room together, alone, and sleeping.

Oh yeah, now he remembered. Last night.

"Oh, Mahal." Thorin murmured again, quieter. He’d been a terrible companion and friend to her. He didn’t face her when she spoke of her vulnerabilities, or give his apologies to his kin’s insults, or threaten the waitress who dared attempt to harm her. He even said he’d get the best smither there was to fix her beads, like that’s what she was worried about when she put them away! He even questioned her choice of people to braid beads into her hair, like she hadn’t proven her capableness on decisions before. She certainly had, and some of them had been smarter than his. And she just smiled or laughed at whatever he said! Maybe she knew he was so comfortable and tired that common sense flew out the window and didn’t hold any of it against him. He hoped she was the better dwarf between of the two of them when he woke her up. She’d given him trust in information he had no reason to have, and he hadn’t been the most respectful to her in return.

"Ayth," Thorin whispered out, reaching a hand to shake her. He hesitated for a split second, wondering where it was safest to touch. He put a hand on her shoulder and shook it gently. Ayth woke with a start, hand already out for a dagger that wasn't there before she’d even opened her eyes. She froze when she noticed her lack of daggers and appeared to take a mental step back.

"Thorin?" Ayth asked when she finally saw him. He nodded slowly, mindful of his aching upper body, and stood on lethargic, numb legs. He offered her his hand to help her up and felt a small amount of relief that she didn’t hesitate to grab it. Ok, maybe he didn’t mess it up too bad. He was still very rude last night though.

"Aye. We need to get dressed, the plan starts soon." He answered. Ayth nodded in easy acceptance, agreeing with his words, and was up and gone by the time Thorin felt safe to move his legs.

When he saw her again, she was dressed in her clothes from before Rivendell happened, which were all clean and no longer bloody. She looked almost completely like she did before they arrived, save for three new beads she had in a single braid lock of hair she now kept down.


	8. Rain Fallen Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friends that have read this chapter called it the chapter that changed everything. It technically doesn't need warnings, but if you're sensitive to grief (like one of my friends are) this one might get touchy. So this is my heads up to you. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Thorin made his way through the home of the elves, slipping into the occasional room to wake up members of his Company. By the time he made it to his door, he had thirty minutes before dawn, and rushing started sounding like a good idea. Thorin moved about his temporary room quickly, dressing down in his armor -which dug pleasantly into his sore muscles- and layers. He braided the sides of his head unthinkingly while he did the final count over the stuff in his bag. Once complete, he put his new sword on his hip, his ax into its harness, Deathless across his back, and his bag over his shoulders. He was out the door with ten minutes to spare.

He stopped at the doorway to his room with his hand on the handle as something nagged at him. He turned around to survey the room. He had purposefully left it disarrayed: elven clothes were strewn everywhere, the bed was smothered in blankets and pillows, wax was on the wooden counter, ink was smeared on oak, and innocently laying across a chair was the elvish night clothes Ayth had given him the night before that he’d tossed when he changed. Thorin teetered between leaving it and grabbing it, and sighed heavily as he chose the latter.

Thorin made it to their meet location in time to see that most of the company members were eating a bit of meat, save Bilbo who had found a cooked potato from somewhere. Those that weren't eating were Ayth and Balin, who pooled over a map, and Dwalin and Oin, who were behind them listening in. Ayth looked up at him when he walked in, and her hand slid across the map to a spot she wasn’t looking at. He stared back until she looked down, at which point she went back to talking.

“I’ve traveled a few times through Greenwood using a couple of the paths that have been there from the First Age, which should still be there now. By Thorin's leave, I could use my limited knowledge of the forest to lead us through. Gandalf warned me that Greenwood has new inhabitants in it, so my knowledge is on the forest, not what is  _in_ the forest. We need to be prepared for the new things.” She said cooly, in a tone that Thorin had never heard from her before. She looked over her shoulder at Dwalin and Oin and he realized why they were there. It wasn’t at their leisure, they had skills to aid them on the possible dangers; Dwalin was a Guardsman Trainer and Oin was a Healer.

He walked over and looked at the small elven map they pooled over that showed the Misty Mountains, Greenwood (Mirkwood was written next to it), a place called Esgaroth (Laketown was written next to it), the Long Lake, Erebor, the beginning peaks of Rohan, the farthest reaches of the Iron Hills, and the Grey Mountains of the north. Ayth’s finger pointed at Greenwood while Balin’s was on the Misty Mountains.

“If you speak the truth of your travels we will use you through Mirkwood,” Thorin answered Ayth, and then pointed at the Misty Mountains. “Are you positive you know your way, Balin?”

Balin gave a meaningful smile, like Thorin amused him.

“The mountains do not change in a hundred years nor in a thousand. All we’ll need to worry about is what new creatures live _in_ them.” He answered confidently. Thorin nodded once, short and curt, and looked over his company to see how ready they were to leave. The group was watching him already, waiting for the signal.

“Then we head for the mountains. Quickly now, before the elves catch on. Gandalf cannot hold them forever.” Thorin ordered.

The group of fifteen left at sun break, and they owed their quick escape to Ayth’s knowledge of Rivendell and the surrounding area. By the time the sun was out on the horizon they were in the Misty Mountains, at which point she fell behind Balin to let him lead. They left behind them panicked elves and a smug Gray Wizard, not that any of them knew that.

"How long will we be in these mountains and what of Gandalf?" Bilbo asked after the first day and night. The path they walked was wide enough for three to four warrior dwarves to stand side by side, but it was noticeably getting smaller already. Already Dwalin had to slip behind Thorin, Oin, and Balin, for the path was almost too small to fit him without risk of a tumble.

"Balin said two weeks if we move quick enough." Nori piped from Bilbo's left.

"Gandalf will leave Rivendell tomorrow. I don't know how he'll find us, but he's meeting us in the mountains three days from now." Bofur replied from his other side. Bilbo hummed along with what they said, and wondered why Gandalf had to wait until tomorrow before he left. What kept him back? He vaguely remembered Gandalf said something about a White Council that he was a part of. Maybe that was why. He doubted any of them would ever know the truth.

Set up as rear guard duty for that day were Ayth, Kili, and Fili, who spent their time telling outlandish facts that the other two had to decide were true or not; like the cave troll Ayth fought while young (it was a buck in the dark), or that Fili and Kili pretended to have the same birthday to confuse Thorin (it didn’t work but he did switch their ages for a few months). And unlike the warrior dwarves ahead of them, the three of them were thin enough to stand side by side with six inches to spare per dwarf with ease, which they used to their advantage to teasingly push each other now and again.

“So something I learned about our dear Master Hobbit while in Rivendell is that he’s fifty,” Fili said casually, arms crossed behind his back and nose pointed up. It was a true fact he said, but he gambled that the other two would call it false.

“Really? He’s that old? I didn’t realize he was so close in age to us.” Kili commented, surprised at the number. Ayth gave both of them a weird look.

“Half your age isn’t as close as you think it is.” She murmured casually. The two looked over at her in confusion, and then at each other. Fifty was not half their age. Either Ayth thought she knew Bilbo’s age (which was impossible because Fili’s fact was true), or she didn’t know  _their_ ages (which they thought was impossible because their ages were their bane on this quest).

“He’s not half our age.” Fili corrected her, and Ayth raised her eyebrow at him. If Bilbo wasn't half their age, how old were they?

“Your fact is true," Ayth answered before she continued this new trail of thought. The poor halfling had cursed his loose grip and weak arms early on in his training, blaming his fifty years of overall easy life, enough times it was seared into her memory. "And you’re Thorin’s nephews, you can’t be that much older than one hundred, your mother would have been too young.”

And that was all the brothers needed to hear to know she  _didn’t_ know their ages. They suddenly worried for the ire that might become of her when she figured it out. Every dwarf that learned of their ages and the journeys they went on always had a few choice words for them and their guardians, and as light as Ayth liked to be, there were always limits.

"No?" She asked, and she wondered if this was one of their true or false factoids. She herself had said she was one hundred and seventy-nine, and the two of them spent a _long_ time throwing numbers at each other to figure out if it was true or false (they decidedly said false, which was right). Fili mumbled something too low for Kili to hear, but Ayth did.

"Not a hundred? Are you ninety?" She pressed. The brothers shook their heads once more, telling her they were younger. "No? How about eighty?"

"I'm eighty-two." Fili murmured to the ground while Kili shook his head again. Ayth raised an unseen eyebrow at him and the number. What a bold age to pick.

"That makes you almost half _my_ age.” She said, curiously. She turned to Kili. “And how old are you Kili?"

"I’m seventy-seven," He answered, straight to the point. No point dancing around the fact now.

Ayth waited in the following silence for them to say false, but it never came. Her little smile disappeared as the cold claw of disbelief grabbed her heart, and it occurred to her they might be serious. The two continued to walk with their heads down for another minute, and she watched the way their shoulders crumbled with time. She knew then they were serious. They weren’t triple digits, nor were they even close to being triple. She'd assumed Ori was one of the youngest, and he was a hundred and twelve. But these two took the cake. By  _thirty_ years.

“You’re serious?” She asked, humor gone. The two looked up at her then, a bit surprised at her surprise.

“Yes?” Kili said, but it came out like a question. Her chest puffed up as she stood straighter, and her eyes moved from the heirs of the throne to the king of the throne. She looked at Thorin like she was about to go push him off the cliffside for bringing them.

She herself had been foolishly young when she went adventuring, sixty-four in age, but she'd gone to war, survived a dragon, fought orcs, wildlife, and nobles, and had stopped raids for forty years by that point. Anything thrown at her, besides perhaps trolls but she wasn't going cave digging, was something she could handle. She might have gone off alone to see Smaug, but that would be her own foolish prerogative. She wouldn't have brought someone her age (or someone who wasn't at least  _ninety_ ) with her on a _suicide mission_. No matter what reason. Let alone the  _only_ heirs to the  _Durin Throne_.

On her first extended step towards Thorin, Fili’s hand softly grabbed her wrist. It was tight enough she felt it, but loose enough that he clearly gave her the opportunity to pull away if she so desired. He was offering insight, not stopping her.

Ayth’s head whipped around to look at him, and her newly freed hair swung around and nearly hit Kili. Fili stared at Ayth, and it was a good thing they were the last of their group because they stopped walking. Kili peered over Ayth’s shoulder and shook his head softly at his brother. Fili saw it, but he ignored him. Ayth was different from the others, she would take his words into consideration before reacting. Quite possibly even listen to him.

“Don’t.” He whispered, so quiet that he barely made a sound. He fought to keep his eyes on hers and not duck his head under the heat of her stare. Her eyes were fierce with a rage he’d never seen, and now he knew why she could face Dwalin so easily.

Fili then saw the ire leave from her eyes, and she blinked a few times at him, _seeing_ him, and not his age number. She looked over her shoulder at Kili, who gave her the same pleading look Fili was giving her even if he didn't expect her to listen. She heard the ‘please’ behind the ‘don’t’, saw they knew why she was angry and were begging her not to do anything. They had already faced anger because of their age a number of times. Their ages were their weakness in this quest. Their ages made them from warriors and Durin’s Heirs to Heirs of Durin who are to be protected. Not respected, protected.

“Why?” She asked quietly, turning to look at Fili once again. Fili shuffled his feet and looked ahead at the group, a couple of meters ahead now.

“It’s our home too.” He replied, attempting to sound steady.

“You weren’t even-” _Alive_ was what she was going to say, but the problem was it was their home. By birthright and by race. As dwarves, Erebor was for all kinfolk. She couldn’t say it and mean it, so she changed tactics.

“You’re passionate about this quest. I’ve seen it. You follow orders and tiptoe authority, but I know your kind. I _was_ your kind for a long time. You do pranks and play in the dirt, not jokes and teases. You want to stay in this quest and not get sent home, which is understandable considering what we are fighting for, but why are you so passionate about seeing this to the end? If you had stayed with your mom and this group succeeded, you still would have seen Erebor in the end, and if we didn’t, both of you would be alive still to carry Durin’s name. So why are you risking your lives and living with being treated like striplings for this?” She asked. Fili’s jaw tightened as he continued not to look at Ayth, and he appeared to war with whatever he wanted to say.

It was Kili who spoke.

“Our mom was ten when Smaug attacked,” He said, sounding as tense as Fili looked. “She had nightmares about it for decades, but she got better eventually. She found ways that helped. When Fili was born the nightmares came back with him the central focus of them, and I joined when I was born. As we got older, her dreams changed to fit us. She can’t escape them, even now, and Fili and I could never help her. This journey could be it. Because once Smaug is dead the nightmares stop... Right?”

His voice was soft near the end, begging her to reassure him. It was the voice of someone who sought out comfort for their nerves and fears, who wanted someone to tell them they were doing the right thing. She was intimately familiar with the voice.

She detached her wrist from Fili’s grip with a sharp twist, and she watched the crack it made in his blue eyes. She didn’t let him think the worst as she lifted the same wrist up and placed her hand on his shoulder. She tilted her body to create the same move to Kili to give both of them her attention. She held her hands there for several seconds, watching them and making sure this touch was ok before she spoke.

“The nightmares aren’t going to stop immediately. She will continue to have them even after Smaug is dead,” She answered honestly. The duo disheartened looks made her brows crumble into sorrow for them. “She won’t wake up terrified and afraid that it will come true though. Her nightmares are from her past experience and fears, and her right as a mother to worry for her sons. You can’t take those away, for they are her burden to carry. Killing Smaug won’t erase her past or worries, but it will give her hope for the future. You two can’t help her how you want to, but you can help her in the way that matters.”

In between moments she went from staring at the brothers as their faces went from disheartened to happy, to having two arms wrapped around her and a face full of blond hair. When she tried to turn her head she found brown hair.

“Guys?” She murmured at the risk of getting hair in her mouth (she did). They didn’t make a noise, but their arms tightened in response. Ayth felt her heart melt just a smidge, and she wrapped an arm (suddenly glad she decided not to hold their hands) around their backs. She felt more than heard the little noise Fili made when she did, and saw more than felt him shuffle closer. Kili did too apparently because one of his arms moved from around her to around his brother. Kili lifted his head from her shoulder a bit, giving her enough sight to see a suspicious looking Thorin doubling back. Their disappearance was noticed.

“Thank you,” Kili whispered to her shoulder, and they heard Fili make a noise of agreement. Ayth pulled them in closer for a second more before she let go.

“Behind me.” She ordered even while she pushed them towards the wall and moved forwards. She stood in front of the royal brothers and rose to her tallest as Thorin approached, determined to stand by them and keep them from being falsely judged by the situation.

When it was noticed how far back Ayth, Fili, and Kili were, Thorin thought perhaps she was scolding them for something or another. The path overlooked a steep drop and his nephews liked to tease. They would never actually do anything, they knew when they could and couldn’t, but they could still be vocal. He was surprised when the brothers hugged her though. The surprise turned to concern when she wrapped her arms around them as well. Why did they hug her? Who was the one that needed the hug?

When he caught Ayth’s gaze he expected to see concern, sadness, pain, or maybe even mischief. He did see her concern in the furrow of her brow and the sadness in her frown, but it all quickly disappeared when she saw him coming. She pushed his nephews towards the mountain wall so she could get around them, and then she  _bodily_ stood in front of them, protecting them yes, but protecting them from  _him_. She stood to her full height and brought one of her arms back around to them, shielding them from any harm to come their way, and though Ayth was inches shorter than he, Thorin didn’t feel like he had towering power over her.

He saw her lineage in that move, the tale she told when asked about her epithet, Shielden. How one of her ancestors used his body as a shield for the son of his king, and he and his descendants were named King's Shield. Her entire line would have to be loyal to a fault to have all been named Shielden, and it was clear that that loyalty carried on in her.

There was a flaw there. _Her_ line was royalty, so why was her ancestor shielding the king’s son? It was possible her ancestor wasn’t royalty but married into the family after he got the name. It was equally as possible it was her ancestor that nearly died for his brother or father. He'd have to ask her which one it was someday.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as gently as he could when he was within earshot, and he stopped a few feet farther than he usually would, just to be safe. Ayth watched him for several long seconds, unsure of what to say. She turned her head towards Kili when he tapped her shoulder.

“Don’t.” He mouthed, and nodded his head to Fili, who Thorin couldn’t see. She looked at Fili, and whatever face he gave her had her arms falling as she dissolved.

“For you.” She said to them, and Thorin felt a surge of affection for the half dwarf who comforted his nephews. She didn’t have to extend her comfort to them, and she didn’t have to protect them, and yet she did. She turned to face Thorin again, though now she lowered her body into a subdued state of standing.

“We breached a topic of my past that turned depressing. I tried to play it off as funny, but they didn’t let me. I pulled us back to talk about it so they’d stop worrying, and it didn’t entirely work.” She explained simply, her voice as sincere as the look in her eyes. Thorin checked his nephew’s faces for proof of her statement. He hadn’t quite figured out Ayth’s tell for lying yet, but he knew when his nephews were. Problem was, Fili was still hidden from him, and Kili had his attention on his brother. Neither chose to look at him.

“Do you mind my asking what it was?” He asked curiously, and proceeded to turn his eyes down to show her she didn’t have to answer. If it was true and it was something depressing from her past, he didn’t want to pry more than he had last night.

Ayth physically hesitated. There was a stutter in her shuffle, a hitch in her breath, and her eyes dropped to the ground. Thorin thought he  _had_ caught her in a lie right then, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Kili and Fili placed hands on her shoulders when they sagged though, transferring comfort through the touch, and he saw Kili’s eyes shoot to the cliff side. Thorin looked at the cliff, wondering if there was something he missed. He saw the drop down the mountain and it clicked.

“Are you afraid of heights?” He asked Ayth rather rudely in his surprise. He saw Kili’s surprise at his bluntness and Ayth flinched.

“No,” She answered quickly, and then she looked at the cliff face across from them. She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a good second before she spoke, and when she did, it sounded like it was punched from her. “When I was thirty-four... I took my brother outside our home to show him the deer he could find in a ravine. We weren’t aware of the storm rolling in that day and got caught in it. Adren... slipped over the side from the mud, and I jumped after him. I took the beating from the fall... I was out for over a week and woke up to learn I’d landed shoulder first, had dislocated my arm after Adren landed on it, and had countless other scrapes and bruises from the tumble. The only reason I was still alive was because of the blood in me.”

Ayth motioned to the brothers behind her then, and their somber eyes turned to her.

“The topic hit close to home for them. It’s fine, Thorin.” She finished, her tone telling him to drop it. It most certainly wasn’t fine, but Thorin could see she would fight him if he pushed.

“Thank you.” He murmured, pushing sincerity through those two words. Ayth nodded singularly, and he saw her shoulders ripple for his next question. It didn’t come.

“Now keep up.” He ordered, lingering only a split second longer to look at his nephews before he walked back to the rest of the company, which had crowded together into a giant wall on the path. They broke apart when he raised an eyebrow at them.

Ayth reached up to grab the brothers’ hands from her shoulders and pulled them along as she walked. She let go when they followed.

“Hey Ayth, was that story true?” Kili whispered as quietly as he possibly could. There was no need to give away their story after just creating it. She wrung her neck out for them just so they wouldn’t have to tell Thorin about their mom’s nightmares, which their mom had  _forbid_ them to ever share with the dwarf king. Thorin would be mad at all of them if it got out, and Dis would be mad at them for letting Thorin know at all.

Plus, if her story wasn’t true, it was one hell of a tale to pull from nowhere. He hadn’t known why she mouthed ‘Look at cliff on mark’ when she turned to face them, or what the “mark” was, but he knew a spur of the moment planning when he saw one, and he knew how to do them. He got an idea about what the plan was when she said her first sentence, which he was positive she did on purpose. He and Fili had shared a look, making sure the other understood what was happening, before the story continued. He still didn’t know what the “mark” was, but he knew why the cliff was important.

The mark had been her swatting the hand Thorin couldn’t see against their stomachs. They didn’t react fast enough -Fili even had to nudge Kili to get him to notice, and they didn’t know how to fix it, so they placed their hands on her shoulders when they dropped. The quick thinking had been they hugged her, so this couldn’t be too strange to Thorin. Then Kili remembered what the “mark” originally meant and he looked at the cliff. Thorin saw that _instantly_ , which Kili figured was part of Ayth’s plan, because Thorin asked the right question for Ayth to hook, line, and sink.

The story Ayth spun sounded real, and the brothers didn't know whether to hope it was or wasn’t. No other story she’d told about her siblings hit such dark topics. In all the stories she shared of her family, never once did she hint that they came to harm. The Durin brothers were under the impression she was good at protecting her people and family. She did a good job of that with the thirteen of them when it mattered, and they weren’t protected by walls and guards. She'd also never been wounded in such a way in her stories. She’d always been in battles where she was wounded, but her wounds never knocked her _unconscious_ for over a week. She was usually up and walking by the end of the first week, at  _latest_. They’d be less inclined to believe it if they hadn’t just witnessed her come back from broken ribs and torn skin within a few weeks. Aüle, she’d been walking, talking, and eating after two  _days_.

“One hundred percent. When Adren was ten he asked me to show him how to survive in the wild because he wanted to be an adventurer when he grew up. I thought it was a phase that would blow over in a few weeks, so I agreed. Cue to several months later. He was a dedicated and intelligent student, and after so long with his nose in books, I figured he’d want hands-on experience. I had people take him out, and I did whenever I could, to places I knew in the mountains around our home. I gave him real life time to hunt, find good and bad plants, get fresh water, climb rocks and trees, look for and follow animal tracks, the works. He was well on his way to being an adventurer by the time he was fourteen, as long as someone was with him, and to being alone on his treks when he was sixteen." Ayth answered, and her voice was boastful, for she was proud of her brother's abilities.

"The day of my story was our first time trying slightly more dangerous terrain, and I picked a ravine because it was empty of water and deer used it to travel. The ravine was covered by trees overhead so there was no risk of being blinded by the sun, and there were rocks at the ledge that were great to keep balance on, so it was a nice place to start off with." She continued, and she rubbed the back of her head.

“We climbed down into the ravine using rope he tied to a tree. We were hunting, and I knew the deer came a little after dusk when their sight was great and others were weak. When it started getting dark it didn’t ever strike me that the sun would be coming down too soon, we were both eager to catch a deer and bring it home to show our parents. It wasn’t until it started raining that I realized there was still quite sometime before sundown, and that the ravine wouldn’t be safe with it raining. I had us pack our stuff up, secured everything, and climbed up first. Adren hadn’t climbed a rope in the rain yet, and while not dark, it was dim enough the climb could be dangerous for him. The ravine was a good fifteen-foot drop from the top, and he could assume he got to the edge, reach for it, and fall. So I climbed first, and Adren tied the rope around himself so I could pull him up... By the time I’d gotten to the top, the rain had really started to come down, and I was glad I decided to pull him instead of letting him climb. The pulling up part was fine, it was easy, he was ninety pounds with a bag. Once he was next to me I had him get his footing on the rocks before I took off the rope.” Ayth shook her head, and her face pinched like she was mentally cursing herself. The visual response to her story told enough for the brothers; while all of her stories could be true, this one was one of the few that still affected her.

“I shifted my weight just _a little_ as I pulled the rope free, and the rock I was standing on went down. It was a long piece of rock, a shale of some sort, and while my end went down, the opposite end went up under Adren. He tipped on the rock, but he was going to catch himself. The rock was weak though, and it broke under our weight on different ends. He went down with it, and this time _did_ slip as the rock slid on the mud. He fell over sideways and grappled for me... I was just a split second too late... The time it took to drop the rope and grab him were too far apart, and he literally _fell_ _through my fingertips_. I didn’t hesitate to jump after him. I turned my body for less wind resistance, and he was in my arms quicker than I expected... I held him as tight as I could so I didn't lose him, rotated us around so my body was to the ground, and then we landed. I woke up a week later.”

Fili, farthest from the wall and closest to the cliff, looked down the drop they walked beside, and felt a tremor run through him. It was so easy to imagine that as him and Kili because they’d done similar antics with less protective gear, and probably  _unlike_ Ayth, had been told to protect each other first.

“You don’t sound anywhere near as affected by it as you did back there,” Kili noted positively. Ayth looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“It was a little under a hundred and thirty years ago, and since then I’ve had to do worse. Back there, that was me saving your hides from big bad Uncle Thorin, I had to play my part right.” She jested, shouldering him into the wall again. He copied her prior move and raised an eyebrow at her. She sighed and looked at the other Durinson, hoping he’d get the humor, but he wasn’t paying attention. Well fine then.

“Really though, I was glad I took the fall rather than Adren. Being afraid of slopes and rain mixed together I was less ok with, but as time went by and an incident like that never happened again, the fear subsided. For both him and me. When he was twelve he asked if I’d be willing to continue teaching him, which I did, and he was on his first real adventure at nineteen.” She said, telling the happy ending of the story. The sad ending was the how and why he stopped having her teach him the second time.

She reached over the Durin Brother’s shoulders, wrapped her arms around their necks, and dragged them in until their heads bumped together. Cheerfully, she brought the topic back to how all of this started.

"Now then, I can safely tell Thorin that my remaining great-great-niece is older than both of you," And, as an afterthought. "A few others are also older than Kili now that I think about it.”

Both brothers blushed then. They knew her immediate family was entirely human.

She let go of them after she said what she wanted, and the group of three walked on with nicer talk, though now with a somber underlayer. Upon Thorin’s orders, or something of a similar caliber, the three of them were pushed farther ahead in the line to keep an eye on, which the brothers felt bad for but Ayth shrugged. Now that they were in the middle silence fell upon them, all three a bit awkward and worried one of the others might ask questions if they talked. Their silence bred more silence from the dwarves around them, and eventually, it was just this big palooza of quiet marching that sounded sinister against the mountain walls. Ayth eventually started to hum to fill the silence for all her companions around her, which was much appreciated, though a few of them could swear they heard that tune sung by the elves they had left behind. They didn’t want to know where she got the song from, but they knew who Bifur got it from because he eventually began to whistle with Ayth.

As the path got smaller the brothers could no longer walk beside Ayth and fell into line behind her. Bilbo appeared between them (they don’t know how or when) some point late in the afternoon, once the song finally broke the ice and chatter began again, and he asked if he could walk next to Ayth. The brothers glanced at each other, and Fili grinned a Cheshire smile.

“Do you know the password?” He asked, and Bilbo’s hopeful face dropped in disbelief. Before he could say anything, a hand appeared around Kili and grabbed the back of Bilbo’s shirt. It pulled a squeaking Bilbo around the dark-haired Durinson and set him next to Ayth, who let go of Bilbo once she knew he wouldn't slip from surprise.

“The password is-” She let out a litany of colorful Khuzdul at them, but to sum it up, they could go stick a very large something into a very dark place. Fili and Kili bubbled into laughter at her words, and through their laughter, they could hear similar sounds from behind and ahead, all the way up to Thorin, who was second in line behind Balin. Ayth tossed a grin at the two, and Bilbo looked between the three of them.

"Something tells me that wasn’t a password, was it?" He asked her quietly.

"Nope." Was her toothy reply, and then she too laughed.

They spent that night in a small cave they found, mostly because Bombur fell in when he leaned against the wall. There they made up their sleep rolls, made a fire near the opening, and set food out to eat as the moon waxed across the sky. Chatters echoed through their temporary post as the dwarves did whatever was to their fancies, be it a game, sleep, or stories.

"The progress we made could be hindered tomorrow," Balin told Thorin and Dwalin ominously. The two looked at him with questioning glances, halted in their conversation about where they’d go once out of the mountains. "It could rain. In fact, it most probably will."

Balin made his way to the mouth of the cave and pointed to the outside. Thorin followed him to see the damage of tomorrow's forecast, expecting to see rolling clouds. Only there wasn't a cloud in sight. It was a beautiful night with a million stars and a bright moon.

“Balin...” He trailed off, looking over at his longtime friend and adviser. The older dwarf smiled and tapped his nose knowingly. Thorin regarded him for a moment, then did as told. He sniffed the air.

It smelled faintly of water, a telltale sign that rain was coming. Thorin sighed heavily at the revelation, new plans running through his head now that he knew this.

"The path may be more dangerous if it doesn't widen tomorrow. Ayth!" He barked into the cave. The half dwarf stopped what she was doing and stood to standstill attention. He saw the control roll through her body as she prepared for whatever he threw at her, be it an order or he actually threw something at her. "We’re expecting rain tomorrow and Bilbo likes you more than the rest of us. I want you to stay with him. We don't want him tumbling down the cliff."

Thorin punctuated that statement with a glance in the sputtering hobbit's direction. Ayth saluted Thorin exaggeratedly, which made Kili and Nori chuckle. She then sat down and went back to helping Gloin.

A watch was set: Bombur first, Oin second, Fili third, Ayth fourth, Dori fifth, and Gloin last. The red-bearded dwarf woke up the company when he smelled a change in the air, only twenty minutes from dawn. The company ate a light breakfast before leaving their cave when it was light enough to see without worry. They trekked one behind the other throughout the cloudy morning, ate a light lunch, and continued to trek on as the clouds grew darker into the late afternoon. The sun's light dropped sooner than normal because of the mountain peaks, and the sky fell on them.

"Rain was putting it lightly Balin!" Ayth yelled from her spot behind Fili. Or, at least, she assumed was still Fili. Lightning threw odd pictures around them and made seeing anything hard, and the thunder made the mountain passage vibrate almost too loud to hear anything else, so she wasn't entirely sure she was still behind Fili. She knew Bofur and Bilbo were behind her though. She and Bofur had spent the last hour keeping a hand on Bilbo so he didn't slip, both listening to Thorin's orders and because she worried for his safety. Bilbo clung to her coat like a lifeline, using her for balance when he slipped occasionally during the walk. A dagger found its way into Ayth's freehand to prepare her for any dangers or problems when his slip almost made her almost slip too.

Except the one that appeared.

Multiple steps from where she’d shouted at Balin, Ayth had to turn her head away from the rain of rocks poured down and a boulder fell over them not soon after. She heard shouts of 'Hug the wall' and 'Don't slip' and found herself pulling a shivering Bilbo closer. What in Mahal made a _boulder_ fall? _Lightning_?

She turned her head to the wall while her dagger cut into the rock out of reaction for her safety. Her opposite arm wrapped under Bilbo’s armpits now and she lifted him up to hug him close. He was  _not_ going to fall on her watch.

"This is no thunderstorm! It's a thunder battle!" They all heard Balin shout. A thunder  _what_? "Look!"

She didn't want too. She really didn't. But she never turned her back on a foe until she was positive they were dead or gone. She peeked through her eyes, and didn't have to see where Balin pointed to know what he was talking about. They faced a foe half as big as Smaug; a stony monster as tall as the mountain itself, and it was hurtling rocks twenty times her size. At them. On a cliff in the rain. Where they were already slipping.

"By Aüle. The legends were true. There are stone giants! _Stone Giants_!" Bofur shouted from the spot behind Bilbo.

"Quit yapping, more grasping." She shouted back at him.

And then her world tilted.

"Kili, grab my hand!" Fili shouted from beside her.

She looked around him just enough to see that Kili was on safer rock than they were, and grabbing his hand would be suicide for one or both of them. She let go of her dagger for a split second to grab Fili’s backpack and pull him back from almost falling, and the movement nearly sent her over the cliff. She went to reach back for her dagger the same time Bofur grabbed onto her and Bilbo to pull them back safely, and the combined work kept them all from falling. She felt even better when Bofur decided  _not_ to let go of her or Bilbo, and when Fili also grab onto her she was just as content as she could be given the circumstances. It allowed her to keep an eye on all three of them, or rather, a feel for all three of them would be a better way to say it since she still had trouble seeing past all the lights flashing.

Their world whirled widely, and it was only Ayth's dagger in the wall and all their sheer willpower that saved any of them from falling. She heard shouts from the part of their company that had landed on safer rock and felt a jolt through her arm as she hit a wall of... _something_. She flexed her hand around the hilt of the dagger to check for wounds, which revealed nothing left behind except a dull pain she was sure was just a bruise.

The ground beneath them began to fall away, and just like that the dagger released from the wall and they fell. Before they had the opportunity to cry out they landed on the path,  _ahead_ of the rest of the company now, and they all froze in wait for the next fall. It took hearing the stone giant fall to the fathomless bottom for the four to realize they were safe, and Bilbo let out a laugh that bordered on panic and shock. The dwarves with him were a little slower on the uptake that they'd survived, and Bilbo swore Ayth's heart didn't beat for five solid seconds.

"We're ok," Bofur muttered, almost a question. It took another few seconds before he slowly let go of the poor halfling. Ayth cracked a peak when Bofur let go and saw gray and terrible rain. In her peripheral she saw Fili and Bilbo alive and well, and it helped bring her back to reality. No sooner had Bofur let go of them did the rest of the company find them, and their sighs of relief could be heard over the quieting thunder. It was what the four needed to know they really were safe.

"-Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, that's everyone. We're all safe!" Balin counted out over the rain. Relief flooded the half dwarf so strongly she felt lightheaded from it, and she relaxed her grip a bit on the two in her arms. Bilbo let go as well, but Fili continued to hold on to her even after it was known everyone was safe. In fact, when she relaxed her grip, he tightened his.

“Fili?” She whispered, confused. There was a gasp from her other arm and she released a blue Bilbo. "I’m sorry, Bilbo!"

“No no, it is quite alright. Thank you for saving me,” He panted, resting his hand against the wall as he took in much needed air. He waved it at her, “You fix Fili, I’m fine.”

She hesitated for a few moments more, not quite trusting Bilbo then. The ground was still slick, the rain was still falling, and there were now rocks all over the ground, but Bilbo didn't notice any of it. When he walked away he didn’t slip or lose balance at all, unlike the last few hours that said the contrary. Maybe he was right and he was fine. If that was the case, she had to start working on his self-confidence. The ground was still slippery to the booted folk.

" _There's a cave!_ " Bifur shouted.

"Search the back! Caves in the mountains are seldom unoccupied." Thorin ordered offhandedly, ore busy counting every dwarf and hobbit in the area multiple times over _just in case_.

“Fili?” Ayth whispered cautiously. When he made no sound or movement to acknowledge her inquiry she lifted her hand up and delicately move his hair away from his face, as soft as a breeze. His eyes were screwed tight where he rested his forehead, and he was breathing shallowly through his mouth in quick measures. She couldn’t be sure if the wetness on his cheeks was rain or not. “Come here.”

Fili answered to that. He stood up to his full height and pulled her into a breath-stealing hug, now clinging to her instead of grabbing her. She was surprised he actually listened and stood frozen against him, chin pressed uncomfortably on his shoulder and ribcage dully aching from their tenderness. She unfroze in the next second, wrapped her arms as far around him as she could get, and hugged him as tight as she dared.

“Fili? Ayth?” Thorin asked from behind her. “What’s wrong?”

She felt Thorin’s coat brush her leg from how close he got, and she turned her head to see him over Fili.

“Get Kili.” She whispered, trying not to disturb Fili where he pressed his face into her shoulder. Thorin’s eyes widened fractionally at her urgency, and he glanced at his nephew to look for a wound of some sort. He curled his lip when he realized he wouldn't be able to check for blood or wounds because of the rain and did as told. Ayth turned back to Fili and tightened her arms around him once more.

“I saw your brother in Kili,” Fili’s muffled voice filtered through, and Ayth's body collapsed and stood tall at the same time. She turned her face into his wet temple and brushed against it with her nose softly. He continued, “We were told to protect each other, from the day he was born. When you told the story, I could see Kili and me there. Either one of us could have taken the fall. We grew up-”

“-I know... I know, Fili... I should have never told you boys that story,” She whispered, shushing him gently. “I should have thought of something else. I’m sorry.”

“Fili?” Kili called out hesitantly from behind her, only a few feet away. Ayth turned her head as far as she could to see him. Kili looked about as well as Fili was feeling, but he was holding it together better, with only a forlorn expression and clenching hands giving away his turmoil. Inwardly, she was little surprised he was the one more kept together of the two since Fili was usually the one with an arm out to protect Kili, but outwardly, she beckoned him over with her head, and he took the last two steps forwards.

Ayth found herself sandwiched between the youngest dwarves (young did  _not_ mean weak), which was not what she had in mind when she called Kili over. She meant to hand Fili over to Kili, or Kili to Fili, depending on who was more broken up over this. She was not a part of this. It was not her family in pain. In fact, she was the farthest thing to being a part of this as you could be. She was the  _cause_ of this.

“Thorin, help me out of here.” She muffled out into Fili’s shoulder, in hopes he’d hear her.

“Fili, let her go,” Kili spoke, for he had heard her. She felt Kili move to the side of her, sliding his way into Fili’s arms while trying to move her out of them. A hand that was decidedly not Kili’s grabbed her coat and tugged her backward, aiding Kili in getting her removed.

The combined work of the dark-haired Durin’s freed her from the older sibling eventually, and she fell back into the hard chest plate of Thorin’s armor. She hadn’t expected her release to be so abrupt, and only didn’t fall down because Thorin still had a hand on her. She looked over at the brothers immediately, more worried about their emotional turmoil than her almost physical turmoil. Fili took the change in stride, and she saw that he relaxed in his brother’s arms, where he had just clung to her.

“I should not have told them that story.” She lamented aloud as Thorin corrected her stance, because now it was true. Thorin made no move or noise behind her for several long seconds, and then she felt him swat at her shoulder. When the swatting continued longer than she’d expected, she turned to look at him with a ‘what in Mahal are you doing?’ expression. He saw her look and froze like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“There were rocks on you.” He defended, pointing at her coat. She kept the stare leveled on him, growing more and more exasperated until he dropped his hand and shuffled his feet. He gestured to his nephews.

“You couldn’t have known they would react in such a way.” He murmured. He moved to stand beside her, regal once more. Ayth kept an even stare on Thorin for another few seconds, questioning why he  _swat at her_ like a child. He ignored her look in hopes that the moment would be forgotten. Eventually, Ayth granted his wish.

“I still should have known. It was my story, my younger brother, and I was nowhere near as close to him as they are. Whatever I felt, I should have known they would too.” She answered. Thorin was silent again, and she was quick to look at him to make sure he didn’t pat her shoulder because ‘ _you were wounded four weeks ago_ ’. Thorin was leveling her with a look of curious appraisal though, like he'd figured something out in that moment.

“What?” She asked self consciously.

“Were you close to anyone in Tow?” He asked, genuinely curious and not trying to be rude. Ayth was quick to look ahead at the brothers, who looked like they were whispering to each other.

She didn’t expect anyone to catch on -at least so soon- that her stories of home involving her lacked... Personal relations. She was a good queen and a smart leader who loved her  _people_ , and her people loved her, but she was never personally involved with any one  _person_. She was good at describing feelings and interactions between two people, but she never did it with herself. Author Insert Issues, she’d blame. Thorin must have realized the reality of why from the short stories she'd told about her time in Rivendell and retelling of her beads, because she had definitely been personal and passionate about those; and now, she let slip she hadn’t been close to Adren. If he was that quick to notice those details, she wondered what else he’d seen watching and listening to her.

“My father and uncles... The dwarves of my family. Since you noticed, despite my many stories... I wasn’t actually close to my human siblings for the majorities of their lifetimes." She answered quietly, only for Thorin to hear. She looked at Thorin inconspicuously to see how he reacted, and saw his continued curious expression. She continued, "At the time I chalked it up to my role as queen. I could touch and play, but I wasn’t allowed to have such close connections to my family because I needed to protect my people. It took until I left home for me to accept the real reason... I disliked them, because I resented my mother for moving on so easily, and they were proof of it.”

“Divorce?” Thorin asked. He didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him until now that she had  _human_ siblings with her human mother while her  _dwarf_ father was still alive. That seemed like something he should have picked up on a long time ago, but he hadn't. It never occurred to him that her parents were separated. Dwarves loved for their lifetime, it was easy for him to look past the fact that humans sometimes didn’t. And Ayth never talked about her mom, only ever her father, and never the two in the same story, so the topic of her mom had never been prominent.

“Conception issues,” Ayth replied easily, and Thorin immediately hummed in understanding. “Mom wanted kids, more of them than just me, and she couldn’t with my dad. So she married my stepfather, Tepher Dalles. A great, respectable, strong man who loved my mother, and who tried to treat me as his own daughter until his dying day... I wasn’t exactly easy with him, nor on my mother for falling in love again so easily. It didn't occur me that Man treated love differently to Dwarves. They didn’t have ‘The One’. They could have multiple partners. If one passed, or if the “spark” died, they would mourn and move on. It never clicked with me that that could happen when I was younger because I wasn’t in close company with many humans save for my mom and aunt, and my aunt never changed from her dwarf husband, no matter what happened. She called him her ‘One’ until her dying day.”

Thorin could imagine that. Asteer and Adain had been the (albeit taboo) romance of the kingdom, polar opposites who became equals: human and dwarf, tall and short, common human noble and royal dwarf warrior, all with radically different cultures and pasts and traditions and agings. He’d heard the questions before he knew them, about what would happen if Man’s ability to jump partners appeared. Adain would be lost knowing his One did not love him, and not able to do anything even though he’d already had her. Asteer had adored her dwarf though, even before he even knew she existed. When he started the courting rituals of Man she'd been ecstatic, and to the surprise of his kin, had courted him with dwarven courting traditions not a few months later. Thorin eventually learned she’d snuck it out of Urain after giving him drinks for several hours, which Adain overheard and proceeded to hunt his brother down with threats of debearding for sharing dwarf secrets. He felt some sense of joy knowing that their love had been so strong it lasted both of their lifetimes.

“Did you ever get to amend things with your siblings?” He asked next, and Ayth grew still beside him.  _Yes_ , she had, but not in the ways Thorin might expect or hope. The stories were sad, the deaths sadder, and there was a reason she never spoke of their older years to anyone. There were some things she never let go, and some things she would always have a hard time explaining.

“I... I did with three of them. Adren and I were quick to create a close bond, aided by the fact that I hadn’t yet started ignoring mom when he was born, and had actually been an active part in his childhood for the first fifteen years. He'd been eager to have back the sister he knew I could be, and was decently pleased I was an even better sister the second time around... Dahlia and I were able to mend a few things after a month of me trying to get her to listen. We never talked besides whatever holidays I could attend, though not for lack of trying on either of our parts. We were just... too different.” Ayth answered. She smiled at Thorin, and he could see that she was happy to have mended things with her siblings. The way she said she and Dahlia were too different made him think that still affected her though.

“Orain and I,” She started up again before their stare could go on too long, “Took time, but we ended up the closest. He wanted to know me as his sister and not his queen, and threw himself into becoming my brother. The first two months was all talk, but when his wife died prematurely from sickness, he asked to travel with Adren and I. They were my comrades for two years before Adren had to retire due to age taking over. Orain continued to be my constant companion for another three years, where it ended only a few months before my arrival at Rivendell, and it only ended because his age started getting the better of him, just as it had Adren. I am not ashamed to say he was and still is the only human I ever trusted to have my back no matter what.” She said, stating the positives before she said her one true failure as a sister. Not that Thorin knew that, but at least now he knows how five wargs were able to get to her. She’d had partners, her brothers, for five years before the wargs, and wasn't quite yet up to par fighting alone.

“Orain was the only sibling I was with when he passed, so I take that to mean I succeeded being a sister to at least one family member.” She finished, and grinned once more before her face fell dreadfully low.

“Adon, the youngest, never forgave me for my treatment of his parents or of him. He thought I’d been unfair to them, and he made it  _very_ clear that he grew up thinking I hated his existence, even though he tried to idolize me into everything he did so I'd like him a little better. I admit... I ignored him. For both my duties, for I was still new to ruling the kingdom when he was born, and because I was just a terrible sister. He made sure I knew that he would live long enough for me to know what he felt. For every year from his birth that he thought I hated him, he would hate me to his death. He succeeded too. I tried to make amends with him when he was forty-five-” Thorin winced at the age. “-and he died at ninety. I like to think he lived that long just to spite me, because he was always a fiery spirit.”

“I’m sorry,” Thorin whispered quietly, but loud enough Ayth heard him. She looked over at him with her brows furrowed like him apologizing didn’t make sense to her. Thorin, even through the rain still coming down and her blatant confusion at his words, could see the pain crawling across her features. Adon’s rejection and her inability to mend things haunted her, even after all these years.

“Don’t be. I deserved it. What I went through was only a fraction of what he went through. I spent the first half of his life ignoring him the same time I loved him, and the last half regretting my actions. How he must have f-felt-” Ayth stopped as her voice hitched painfully. She closed her eyes to the rain and began to take measured breaths that sounded practiced. Her brows twitched in sadness, and her jaw clenched and unclenched in anger. Thorin figured whatever she was trying to do wasn’t working as the air grew dense with something other than water, and turned to face her bodily as her inner turmoil built. Should he stop her right then? Would she blow up? Or break down? He didn't know which one he didn't want to see more.

“He... grew up thinking I _hated him_ , Thorin, just absolutely  _hated him_ ,” Ayth croaked, her voice laced with a pain he’d never heard before in the half dwarf. It cut deeper than any physical wound ever could, and Thorin never wanted to hear it again. "I can’t imagine the scarring it left behind to grow up wondering why your sister adored her people and looked at her other siblings, but couldn’t spare a moment to just say she loved you, or to at least explain why she ignored you-”

Ayth found her face was once more buried in hair, but this time it was the wet fur of Thorin’s coat. She remembered it was still raining, and they were still outside. Fili and Kili were done comforting each other and were now off to the side as bystanders because they couldn’t get past her and Thorin on the narrow path. She realized she wasn’t just face first in Thorin’s coat, but she was wrapped in his arms. She hadn’t been the one to initiate contact, he just grabbed her. He touched her first, which never happened outside of when he thanked her. But she didn’t care about that new development right now because he was bigger than her, and it was the first time in a very, _very_ long time she’d felt small in someone’s arms. She pinched her eyes tight as the feeling left her breathless and begging for times long passed.

She reached her hands up jerkily to hold the inside of Thorin’s coat, and tugged it closer to her until she realized it wasn’t enough to pull him closer. She needed to hold something. She let go of the coat, slid her arms around Thorin's torso, and pulled him in until it didn’t feel like she wanted to emotionally collapse. He was hard and unyielding under her hands from his armor, and he didn't bend or make a noise when she squeezed tighter. He didn’t question her, he only held her tighter as she clung to him and how small he made her feel.

She hadn’t been able to feel small since the fall of Erebor. Her guardian was burned badly from Smaug’s fire, and it had been up to her to help them home. It had been her job to work, get food, medicine, places to sleep, and to move them along until they were healed. The muscles in her body had ached from the manual labor she did to get coins for food or medicine, her knees were bruised and harsh smells were seared into her memory as payment so they could have shelter, and the common tongue became her first language to appear more trustworthy. She’d done those things for months until they got home.

When she did get home, she had a title to turn to and take up, a name to hide in her heart, and a father who gave her power of a village that was near orc territory before she could even really be deemed a proper stripling by dwarven standards. She governed that home as queen, lived and breathed every day to protect it for four decades, and was always so busy delegating and protecting she forgot to be a kid.

And she forgot that family was still family. No matter what your mother did, because blood was blood, and she was going to live with that for the rest of her life. Not just Adon, but all of them. She hadn’t been there for any of them until they started turning gray, not like she wanted to be. She was only ever close to Adren as a child, and it was because she had been his  _teacher_ , not his sister.

“When Adon was forty-five years old, too old to do or make or become anything real with me, he learns that I _had_ loved him. I just ignored him because I couldn't understand how our mom could move on so easily... I ignored  _him_ because I didn’t understand how our  _mother_ could move on so easily. It would have turned everything he knew around. He would have spent the rest of his years knowing that, and I can only imagine what he went through... The pain, self-doubt, uncertainty, the questions he would have had...” She whimpered into Thorin's shoulder, not sure if he could hear her over the rain and the muffle from being face first in fur, but needing to say it.

“Shh.” Thorin hummed, and he pressed his cheek to the top of the half dwarf’s head. His arms tightened around her for a moment and he moved them to another position. He made a quick hissing noise at the brothers, and the two were able to pass by, leaving Thorin and Ayth out in the rain. As soon as they were alone Thorin set about shutting her up.

“Ayth, there was no way you could have know your resentment towards your mother would bleed into your love for your siblings. Nor is it not on your shoulders that your brother chose not to accept you when you apologized and explained.” Thorin murmured to her skull, his words fed by his own once experiences from those he’d left on bad terms with, only to learn days, weeks, or months later that they were gone, and his parting words were what was left with them. He closed his eyes and breathed. “You can regret what you never did, but you live too long to carry it with you forever.”

Ayth shook against Thorin while she considered his words. She knew she would always be haunted by what happened (or didn’t happen) with all four of her siblings, no matter what words Thorin shared. They were one of her biggest regrets, one of the few things she would give anything to do all over again and make different. He was right though. She hadn't known how distant she was to her family, and it wasn't her fault Adon didn't accept her apology and wants, it had been his choice. And she knows she shouldn't hold the pain so close, to let it continue to fester and build (why had this come up to begin with?), Thorin was right there too. It could almost be called funny that Thorin finally taught her a lesson, if the fact that the lesson was about the dead wasn't so prominent. It said a lot about what Thorin grew up learning to live with and move on from. Where she was with the living, he was with the dead.

She didn't forget that he did eventually listen to her advice as well. It had put him in a state of grief that had him collapsing, and yet he'd pushed through it and was better in the end. So maybe she could listen to him. She didn't quite know how to do what he said, but the two of them weren't going anywhere anytime soon. She could ask.

Set in her decision to listen to Thorin, Ayth closed her eyes against the wet fur of his coat, and focused on the moment before they had to go in and face the company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, thank you for reading.


End file.
